For the three teenage girls, it was a miraculous experience to witness what was going on. Winning tickets from Ellen DeGeneres to fly out to California was one thing. It was another to be able to attend the Jeff Bernat concert was another. Every time their singer; their idol hit a high note, tears flowed down from their eyes. JoAnn, with her admission strip tightly strapped to her arm and her visibly distinctive blue shirt, reached out in hopes of grabbing Bernat’s attention. As for Martha and Samantha, however, it was too overwhelming for them to even fathom how close they were to their favorite artist. To say that this day was something they’ll remember is an understatement, for this was an event that will remain imprinted within their minds for their lifetime.


    Grandma Esther was never one to live out what could possibly be her last several years in the comfort of her own home. But she couldn’t walk or stand for long periods of time, so a lot of the things that she wanted to do on her bucket list had to be brought to her. Esther wanted wield a gun, just to see how it felt like. We brought her an empty revolver. She gripped it with such ridiculous form; with one hand cupped under the other in which gripped the handle. Being the critical gun owners that we are, we lightly expressed our concern for why she held it that way. She merely laughed it off with a big smile on her face; the kind that makes your eyes seem closed. It was the last of her years, and she wanted to spend them without a care in the world.


    1 year, 2 months, 4 days, and 13 hours. That’s how long I’ve waited to see my children. They’ve grown so much, but they remember their father; something that not a lot of men in the military can experience when they’re deployed after their children have only known them for such a small amount of time. But they recognized me immediately. I embraced my daughters; Susan, the older of the two, clinging on to my right arm as Julie; the little one, took up the right side of me as I knelt down. My children, my wife, and my large American-type house welcomed me home. If this isn’t the American dream for a man in the military, I don’t know what is.