Sometimes, the simple act of showing up is what matters most of all.
The night my grandfather died, I was a young (and brand new) Marine wife, living on Camp Lejeune Marine Corps base in coastal North Carolina. My husband was deployed overseas, and I still didn’t know many people there. If you’ve never lived on a military base, it’s a lot like living on another planet. It’s one of the best planets the universe has to offer, but it takes some getting used to. And I was still in my fish out of water phase.
I don’t remember exactly what I was doing before the phone rang that night. Probably having a showdown with a North Carolina palmetto bug — a giant, flying cockroach related to the pterodactyl. Or trying to figure out a way to tell my husband during our next morale call that our German shepherd puppy ate his favorite comforter. This was…
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