[chai~]

I have often gone to the events, but end up crying my eyes out.

My grandpa was in WWII. He was lucky enough to make it home in one piece. He had several wounds, but did have his life. He would never talk about what happened, no matter how badly I wanted to know. He has since passed, but I think of him often. When he passed, a cache of letters he had written to the young woman he was courting were found. The young woman would eventually become his wife. His letters were assembled in chronological order and put into clear sleeves and tucked into 3, 3 inch binders.

I have read the letters. Never once did he complain about the war. He was always upbeat, yet yearning to come home. He spoke of going ice skating with his girl and all their friends.

I cried my way through those letters, and remember them fondly.

The year he died, I went to his grave and buried one of our Canadian Poppy quarters in the dirt by his headstone. I also left him my velvet poppy.

So tomorrow, I have a white candle to light for him and his pals, and I have a huge bouquet of lush white lily's, to enjoy in his honor.

I will watch the event's on tv, because I get embarrassed when I cry in public. I will light my candle, smell the blossoms, and have a really good cup of coffee...just for him. {He REALLY liked coffee}

Thank you Grandpa~