Dear Dad,

My hat is off and I stand in salute to you on this Veteran's Day, and to the millions of men and women who have served our nation in the armed forces throughout our history.

Joseph Kish, US Army. Oran, Morocco, July 15, 1943.

I especially salute those who have given their lives in sacrifice so that we might live as free people.

It'll be a year next week since you left us. Mom is strong and holding up very well. Kev too. Me, I'm the weak link, and still these many months later, prone to tears. But time is slowly helping to turn sadness into understanding, appreciation and even stronger love. Guess that's the natural way of things.

But it's been a hard year, one of tremendous loss. A number of friends fathers have also passed. A mother. Several close friends have passed unexpectedly. Colleagues and former colleagues have gone. The war going on. There have been other losses too. Could be the stars. Something in the water. Hard to know.

Strangely, but perhaps not, life moves forward. We rise each day. Dress. Eat. Go to work. Live and love. Laugh, cry and play. There will probably always be a void. A hole left in the heart, which you and others once filled.

But we go on.

And as you'd expect, I've kept up the outdoor pace, doing the things you know I love, the things that define life for me. The hiking and backpacking, the skiing and snowshoeing, the kayaking and rafting, a little bad golf, some overseas travel.

I've come along way Dad, since the days when you and I went on hikes up Lulu Brook, caught salamanders in Berry Pond, watched for birds in the Pleasant Valley Wildlife Sanctuary, camped out at Chimney Pond, and climbed Mount Katahdin. You got me hooked on the outdoors. And I've never been the same. Thanks for that, and so much more.

It's weird and still a bit unsettling, though, to call home and not talk to you. About the fun things I've been doing. To get your unfiltered advice. To hear about the walk that you and Mom just took, and the turkeys in the yard, what birds were at the feeder today, the level of the lake down the hill.

But life is what it is. And there is no choice but to carry on. With pride and love and warm memories of a life well lived. Mom and Kev and I are doing that as best we can. And we remember you on this special day, and every day. We miss you.

I'll be going down to see Mom a week from now. We'll be visiting the veterans cemetery where you are buried, me for the first time. She tells me its a beautiful, peaceful spot on a hill with trees and a nice view.

Love,
Son #2