A Company of Heroes Read Online Free PDF Page B

episodes of the series, the four vets in attendance were invited up on stage and each given a plaque of appreciation by a local state representative.
    Every five years, to commemorate the liberation of southern Holland, the Dutch hold a celebration in Eindhoven and invite the allies who had served there to join them. My dad started going to those events in the 1980s. The vets are treated like royalty. They are featured in parades, taken on bus tours of where they had fought, and invited to participate in ceremonies at war memorials. Dutch children come up to them to get autographs and hear stories. The Dutch hold a commemorative jump for those vets who want to jump again onto the drop zone that they jumped on for Operation Market-Garden. Several times my dad did his pre-qualifying jumps here in California, then jumped again with the vets in Holland. His last jump was in 1999, when he was 75. We were all a bit concerned for that one. As soon as he landed safely, my sister Stephanie ran up to him and gave him huge hugs of relief. I called my mother to let her know (and my Aunt Carmen and Uncle Bill, who had come out from Virginia to be with her) that he had jumped and was fine. He was one of about half a dozen vets to jump.
    My mom retired in the early 1980s after she was no longer able to work due to multiple sclerosis. My dad retired in the late 1980s, basically to care for her full-time. He took on her care as his new life’s work. Her disease grew progressively worse. Eventually she lost the ability to use her arms and legs. He dressed her, fed her, bathed her, kept the house clean, and cooked meals. Even though my mom was confined to a wheelchair, my dad would still “dance” with her, moving around the dance floor. Dad always called mom “his girlfriend.” His devotion and loyalty were total.
    Dad passed away first. In 1993 he had a mild stroke. Fortunately it didn’t affect him much physically, but he found it harder to put words together, and you could tell it was very frustrating for him. Plus, his hearing was starting to go. Then, he had a major stroke in August 2005, and he died twelve days later of complications. Dad was almost eighty-one when he died. I was on my way to work when my sister Kelly called me with the news. Dad was in the hospital when he passed. One of the last communications I had with him was shortly after he went into the hospital. I told him I loved him and was proud to be his son. His eyes were closed and he wasn’t able to speak, but he squeezed my hand in response, which meant the world to me.
    We held a memorial service for him. It was touching to hear so many people talk well about him. Former coworkers from Macy’s talked about him having a good sense of humor. Several others talked about how they didn’t even know he had been in the military. The president of the Northern California 101st chapter spoke, “Taps” was played, then he gave my mom an American flag. It was a fitting tribute to his life.
    My mother died as a result of the MS. Her body had gradually grown weaker as happens with MS. She died in October 2006. Both he and my mom wanted to contribute even after they had passed away and had made arrangements to have their bodies donated for scientific research. Their ashes sit next to each other in the home where they spent so many years in San Bruno.
    As for the war, sure, there were bad memories there for Dad, but he was able to put them aside and not let them jeopardize or seriously affect the rest of his life. He was devoted to raising a family and taking care of his wife and kids. I think that focus helped him a lot. He didn’t make a lot of money. He never became an executive. He worked with his hands his whole life, but I would still call him successful. Dad had a tough exterior, but was truly a softy inside. He was a selfless father and loved his family deeply. He was a good man, a man who truly loved his family and worked so hard to keep us safe and happy. He was