Operation Just Cause... ...for as long as it takes
Sent in by Gunny
Dear Ted, Dad,
It was only three years ago we first met, but it seems more like a lifetime.
It was a casual note from you commenting on something you saw on my webpage...I can't even remember what it was but it was the beginning of friendship that grew faster and stronger than any I've ever known. I've never known anyone quite like you and I doubt I ever will again. You are one of a kind...The toughest, most determined, most unfaltering, most courageous man I've ever had the honor of calling Brother, Friend and Comrade in Arms.
I'm sitting here now trying to be as courageous as I can in view of this latest attempt of yours to shock me into silence so you can have the last word again. Well, it won't work. I'm not going to just let it go this time. This time I get the last word.
You've been my mentor, my Brother and my surrogate Dad since the beginning of our friendship. You gave me insight into subjects I'd never understood, pulled on my coat when I was screwing up and helped me move past some difficult experiences.
I remember when we were building your website and I asked you what music you wanted. I was expecting something stirring or martial like the National Anthem or Wild Blue Yonder. You wanted "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and I couldn't talk you out of it. Now I'm glad you stuck to your guns because every time I watch an old Judy Garland movie or see a rainbow I'll think of you.
Then it was that damn animated graphic of a flying horse that looked like an ugly, oversized bird and took all day to load. I tried to talk you out of that too but you said you liked it. I'm glad I went along because now every time I see a horse or a bird I'll think of you.
I remember the night you called me and asked if I knew the difference between a good Marine and a bad oyster...I'll let that one go.... That will stay between us. But I will think of you every time I see an oyster...good or bad....
For months after we met, you had me convinced you were a 35-year-old 'devil may care' renegade hell raiser, even though that would have made you ...What?...six years old when you were capture by the NVA?
You have a way of making me believe anything...
I wish you could make me believe this is all a big mistake...that you'll call me tomorrow and tell me you're getting the boat ready for our fishing trip.
I wish you could call me in the morning and tell me you and Linda were coming to New Jersey and we could make plans for a night of drinking, singing and story-telling at the pub.
When the news came, I was not ready. I was still praying for the miracle. For months now, I've been afraid to answer the phone. Now I don't have to be afraid anymore. But it will never be the same again.
I'll try to deal with this the way I think you'd want me to. I'll stand as tall as I can, bite my lip and try to live with the knowledge that you won't be calling me anymore with a bad joke or good idea. I'll try to accept that I'll never be able to shake your hand, go fishing with you, or have a friendly father to son chat again. I'll never be able to trade Marine/Air Force barbs, joke about politicians or share that bottle of Bushmills at the New Hampshire Primary.
And I'll try to live with the pain of knowing I never got to say goodbye...
Well Dad, now you finally have the answers we searched for together. And you have the peace and freedom you fought so hard to gain for others.
Say Hi to Rick for me...and to Ken George and Jason and Misty. Tell them I'll see you all as soon as I'm done here...
And now that you can't yell at me for saying it:
I love you Ted ... and I'll miss you more than you could ever know.
GBU&CUL
Gunny
I hope you heard me play tonight...I did one just for you. You know the one. The one we talked about last summer.
