Defining Moment

As exciting as accomplishment feels, I really believe life is more than a "to-do list" of things to check off before I die. During this time, my granddad died. He was in his 70s and had been sick for some time. I saw his death as a relief that he was finally out of pain. But upon my Granddad's death, several documents were uncovered, including a letter I'd never seen before. It was written by my Granddad, an eulogy for his father's funeral...

I believe that most fathers and sons love each other, though the expression of this love is rarely spoken. I recall that only once did I say "I love you, Dad," and that was while his body and his mind were ravaged by cancer, and he did not comprehend.

Dad was a kind and quiet man sometimes given to a slightly growly disposition. Those were depression times, and though we had little, Dad cared and shared as best he could except for one possession: his automobile.

When I became sixteen and acquired my driver's license, I thought surely I would be allowed on occasion to use our old and dilapidated automobile. Infrequently, I would hesitantly ask, and he would reluctantly allow me to use the car. This usually set off his growly mood. The next day, after having used the car, he would insist it no longer performed the same. This attitude soon convinced me that I should forego the use of the automobile and revert to my usual walking or bicycling.

World War II came to haunt us, and I inlisted as an Aviation Cadet in the Army Air Force. After eighteen months of flight training, I was awarded my wings and became an officer. I was assigned a crew and a new B-24 Liberator bomber. With my crew, I flew the plane from Topeka, Kansas, to Bangor, Maine; to Gander Bay, Newfoundland; to Terceira Island, Azores; to Morroco; to Tunisia; to Italy to join the 480th Bomb Group of the 15th Air Force. From this base in Italy, I successfully completed my combat missions.

I know in my heart that my Dad was extremely proud of my achievements in those early years. Though he never talked about it to me, my Mother and other friends related to me his words: "Isn't it remarkable that the government trusts my son with a half-million dollar airplane, and I didn't trust him with a $300 automobile!"

I am one up on Dad. I believe I heard him say "I love you, son."


I cried the first time I read this, and honestly still have a hard time getting through it. What tugs at my heart the most, is that this is the legacy my Granddad left. He had regrets with his father, but died with similar regrets with his children. At this writing, these regrets appear to have been passed down to my generation as well. How sad! Of all the amazing things these men have done, all of their accomplishments, they died without reconciling their relationships. They died with regret and left others here with regrets, too late to do anything about them.

I could say I don't want to die with regrets, but the truth is, I don't want to live with them. I don't want to go to someone's funeral wishing I had forgiven them, wishing I had reached out to them, wishing...

I want to live in the freedom my Savior bought for me. I want to live, really live, and face my own mortality with the knowledge that I did my best, took chances, risked getting hurt to reconcile relationships. Because in the end, I believe all I really have is me and my relationships. Nothing else will matter.