I wrote this story on Memorial day. I hope you enjoy it!
Gareth R.T. Owen
I watched with despair as he tossed his duffle bag into the bed of his truck and opened the driver’s side door.
“Please don’t go, dad,” I begged, my voice desperate.
He turned back and looked me dead in the eyes. Mine were blurred by tears, but his were dry. He never cried, not that I saw anyway.
“One day you’ll understand,” he said. “Maybe you won’t forgive me, but you’ll understand.”
That was the last time I ever saw him. But he was right: I understand. When I hold his medals and hear people call him a hero: I understand.
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