My grandfather was a decorated Staff Sargent in WW2. The house I live in was purchased by him when he came back from Europe.

I never met him, as he died before I was born. But I feel a tremendous responsibility to honor him. Often I think, if I had gone through those experiences, I’d hope my children/grandchildren would be grateful for my sacrifices. All you’d want is appreciation.

I wonder how much struggle and sacrifice my ancestors faced. Everything that has lead up to my existence. How much better my quality of life is compared to theirs.

I have a responsibility to make sure I carry the torch honorably.