Honoring a fallen hero

This morning at 2am my mom called to tell me that my Pepa had passed.

At 88 years old, he had lived a full and amazing life. He stormed the beaches at Normandy on D-Day, and was one of only a handful of survivors of his unit. His commanding officers had been killed during the attempt to come ashore, and all he knew was that he was supposed to blow up a bridge. He did that. And then he kept walking until he found another American unit. It happened to be Patton's 3rd Army.

I still remember telling him that The Boy & I had orders to Germany - he giggled like a little boy, and kept claiming it was "his old stomping ground."

He will be buried on Tuesday, the day after Veteran's Day. I can't think of a better honor. It breaks my heart that I will still be here, and not there with my family.