My dad passed away recently. He was 96, and a World War II veteran. He loved his country, and he loved his fellow brothers and sisters who served with him.
The war ended, but the battle did not. My dad suffered every day of his life. The war raged on in him. His mind was never at rest. He could function, but barely.
My mother suffered as well. She had a husband who survived the war, but there were horror stories full of hateful, unspeakable things that a human being should never see, much less have to do during war.
My brothers, my sisters and I are casualties of that war. We had to live with a broken man.
Peace, he has finally attained. Thank God.
"If you love freedom," my dad would often say, "then thank a vet."
- Randy Kelly, Valparaiso