My Grandpa, My Hero

November 20, 2017
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Walking across the damp morning grass, coming upon dead flowers and hearing the cars pass, I stand facing a tomb that glistens in the sun. Kneeling in front of it, I whisper, “Hi Grandpa” to the courageous man I never met. You served in the Army for four years, and fought for what I have today: family, freedom, and love.


As I drive on the roads to my cabin on a sunny Fourth of July day, I gaze at the sunset. While my family gathers around the fire and talks politics, I hear a sudden “BOOM” and there shoots the first firework on this summer night. As I sit admiring the fireworks, I see you staring down on us watching us enjoy the lives you so proudly fought for.


The red, white and blue still hangs high for the lives lost. The sacrifice and bravery you and others provided is honored in this lovely melting pot. The flag you so proudly defended years ago still hangs and will continue to stand for freedom—the freedom you protected.


I have grown up thankful for the loving country I live in. The amount of love, devotion and perseverance you must of had to risk your life is astonishing. I will continue to honor you and the troops that have fought—and are still jeopardizing their lives—to protect me. You provided us with blissfulness and love.


Patriotism means thanking the people who battled and suffered to preserve this land, standing when the National Anthem is being played and loving your country.


As I am kneeling in front of your grave, I hear your wife, sons and daughters cry out in the background, for the dad and husband who was never allowed the chance to meet some of his grandkids.


As I stand up and begin to walk away, I turn around and whisper, “Goodbye, Grandpa” to the courageous man I wish I would have been allowed to meet.






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