Let Veteran's Day remind us of coming home

"I'm coming home!"  We say these words as we call our loved ones after leaving work.  We say them as we finish running to the store to buy the last bit of ingredients for the red hot chile, with the extra kick.  Heck,  Dr. Dre, Eminem and Skylar Grey even sang them.  

Those words mean so much more to military families.  They dream about them.  They even use these words in the form of a question, with the beginning word being "when."

"When are you coming home, Daddy?" expressed by a near three year old girl, as she stares into a camera deep inside her mom's laptop computer.   He's miles away, donning his U.S. Army attire through the screen.   She's tried touching him, wondering why she can't feel his skin, his hair and his beard.  All she feels is the smooth, hard surface of the glass.

"When are you coming home, Daddy?", with the answer being, "A year, my darling daughter."  She doesn't understand how long that is, because she just learned that when the sun comes up, it goes down sometime later that day, and when she wakes up she will see that same sun again.  

This same girl learns how to count, not by blocks or writing numbers.  Instead, she watches her mom make "X marks the spot" signs in tiny squares that adorn the calendar taped to the fridge.  

With her mom's help, she counts the number of "X's, and when she counts past the number 20, she gets so confused that she beings to yell, "Start over!  Start over!" 

She's not really mad about getting the counting right.  She's mad because she wants her Dad.  "When are you coming home?" gets replaced with, "Why did you even leave me?"

I want anyone serving the military to come home.  I want this for every child that needs their Dad or Mom to tuck them into bed at night, while whispering the words, "Sleep tight.  Don't let the bed bugs bite."  These words aren't that comforting, literally.  However, if you asked that little girl if they scared her, she'd most likely tell you they're nothing compared to the fear of living one more day without her Dad.

Watch the YouTube clip below, courtesy of ESPN.   I dare you to do so with a dry eye.  Allow the love you witness to appreciate your home, your family, and your life.

"I'm coming home."  Sing it, Dr. Dre.  Sing it loud.

Happy Veteran's Day.

Happy Birthday to my father

As time passes, I seem to be appreciating life's simple pleasures, taking nothing for granted.  Today marks one of those days, as I wake up realizing it's my father's birthday.  Happy Birthday, Dad!   I've written before about his health "opportunity" when he had heart surgery nearly two years ago.  Since his operation, I believe he is a walking miracle.  

Like many who have faced mortality in such a profound way, he is here.  My father is alive and well, and he seems to be enjoying his final days/months/years on this planet.  Yes, he shows signs of aging, as many do in their second half of life.  Yet, I have witnessed a spark in his step when he spends time  with his youngest granddaughter.  It appears she came here to remind him about gratitude, silliness, and most importantly, love.  When she visits, my niece takes her "Papa" on a walk;  she in her Snow White costume, stretching her hand up to meet his.  This littlest of beings, with her hand soft and smooth, holding all that the future holds;  my father, with his wrinkled, yet strong fingered hand to meet hers.  

Through my niece, I get to catch a glimpse into the feelings I know my father experienced when I was three years old.  I remember sitting on my mom's lap, as she rocked me in her rocker.  We'd look out the big bay window, waiting for his car to pull up in the drive.  "Daddy's home!"  I would yell, running to the front door to greet him.  I don't remember anything more except the big smile he had as his big arms wrapped me in the biggest, warmest embrace.

The cycle of life shows in this grandfather/granddaughter connection.  I hope my father continues to dance right on out into the wild blue yonder on his birthday, and every day he shares himself with his granddaughter, myself, and anyone else that's lucky enough to be part of his dance.

Happy Birthday, Dad!