For many, Memorial Day is a long weekend, a flag in the yard, or a social media post with a folded flag. But for some of us, it’s something far heavier. It’s the weight of names, faces, and moments we carry every day—not just on the last Monday of May.
I’ve lost good friends. Brothers. People I loved, fought alongside, had epic adventures with, and leaned on. Their absence isn’t a distant memory. It’s a scar that reopens quietly, unexpectedly, sometimes when I hear a song, see a photo, or when the silence consumes me.
There have been dark times. Days when I questioned whether I could keep moving forward under the weight of it all. But each time, I remember this: I’m still here. And because I’m still here, I have a duty to live purposely. For them.
Just like we had each other’s backs in service, that commitment doesn’t fade in death. It endures. Our brothers might be gone, but our battle continues—the battle to make this life count.
We rally. We keep moving forward. We take the space left behind by those we lost and fill it with new stories, new adventures, and people we impact for the better. We honor their memory not with sorrow, but with purpose.
They would want us to enjoy the journey. To laugh again. To lead again. To love again. Not to mourn forever, but to live well—because they can’t.
So, this Memorial Day, I’m remembering the fallen. I’m walking forward for them. And if you’ve lost someone too, know that you’re not alone. Their story continues through us.
And if the dark place ever starts creeping in again—reach out. They might not be here anymore, but we are. You’re not in this alone.
Carry on. Live with intention. They’d want nothing less.