I had never given a eulogy before. I don't think, on our lists of first experiences, that's one that we're all eager to add. My las deployment (2006-2007) was . . . simple; very straight forward really, and happily we didn't lose any of the soldiers in my platoon. I remember that most people in the US barely even knew that we were fighting a war in Afghanistan; all the focus was on Iraq. To be fair, Iraq was much more dangerous at the time; there were far more casualties there than there were in Afghanistan.

This year, by comparison, has been horrific. I was 20 years old when those planes crashed into the World Trade Center. I remember getting the call at my apartment and going to the campus commons to watch the news reports. I remember the atmosphere and the general sense of . . terror in the room. One month later I was standing as close as you could get at the time to ground zero. I went to a concert that night at Madison Square and the room was charged with the feelings of tens of thousands of Americans, the horror so fresh in our minds; anger, grief, sadness, confusion. A month after that I was there again; ash and dust still hanging in the air while we stood in front of the fence to read the letters to the fallen. My point is that I was an adult, albeit a very naive one, when all this was happening. I could understand to a degree; I could feel that anger toward the people that had done this. I was old enough to want to protect the people I love and fight back against. . . whatever you want to call it. Four years later, when I joined an army already at war, I understood the reasons for being at war, I could personalize it.

Two soldiers in my platoon lost their lives this deployment; four in the company. One in my squad, a man that I was personally responsible for. Along with the many others sent home with terribly injuries is another young man that I was responsible for, now missing both of his legs and one of his arms. Ryan was 26 at the time of his death, old enough that he probably remembers quite clearly September 11. Tyler was 18, right next to me when the IED that killed him went off. Kevin was 18 when the same blast the killed Ryan Cook took his legs and arm. I still question whether or not they really had an idea what it was we were trying to accomplish. I don't always understand anymore, myself.

I gave a short eulogy at Ryan's memorial service, one of a few people that spoke. Words are important; memories, thoughts. . . Once upon a time I probably believed that the dead were still able to hear us in their afterlife. Now I think the words, the memories, are for those of us who remain behind. It's important not to forget, to honor a person as much as we're able. I don't know why it's important but it's one of those things in life that I just know. . . and that's good because I'm short on certainty lately.

RIP Ryan Cook KIA 18 September 2011

Tyler Springman KIA 17 July 2011

Kenneth Elwell KIA 17 July 2011

Rodolfo Rodriguez KIA 16 September 2011

I've been in love with two women in thirty years. . . I've said it to more women than that; that's one of the things about being in love, I guess; did you really love her? didn't you? Love and. . . almost love. It's like trying to tell identical twins apart sometimes. I guess generally you get caught up in a moment and you say it because that's what you're feeling and then once you've said it, then it's out there and it coasts along on its own for a while. Sometimes it's not until afterward, sometimes a long time afterward, that you know whether it was real or not. I've observed this year that the only way we have to measure how much we love a person is by how much grief we feel when they're gone.

Six years after breaking off contact with her completely, I still think about the first girl I fell in love with. We always think that the hardest thing is loving someone when they don't feel the same way in return. It's awful, isn't it? That feeling your chest or the pit of your stomach when you think about that person; feeling like your world is going to fall apart because you know they'll never feel the same way that you feel about them. But it isn't the worst. The worst thing is feeling that way about someone, and knowing that they feel the same way - and you know it because of the way things are when you're with them - but having to sit by day after day while they refuse to acknowledge it. That's how it was my first time around. It got better when I left home to join the army, but I was still so invested in this girl. . . she had such a hold over me. Like being jerked around on a string and it's a wonder to think that I didn't give it up sooner for a lost cause. I suppose Hollywood gave me unrealistic expectations about love.

So finally I turned the other way. I don't know when exactly it was, but sometime around this event in my life, that I stopped trying for a meaningful relationship and started to focus on sex. . . which, I'll admit, was really great for a time. I might not ever use the word fulfilling to describe those years but they were certainly entertaining. I, being already practiced in keeping my emotions tamped down, was learning how to hide the better part of myself from the majority of the people in my life, to include my family and most of my friends. I used to to think there was nothing really wrong with that. I keep to feelings to myself, no one really gets hurt. . . because being invested in another person means that you can get hurt; someone reminded me of that recently. So I didn't have relationships with women. Pleasure was my number one priority. If I happened to find someone that felt the same way then that was good, it was easy and clean. If they didn't then that was too bad but it was my feelings that I was worried about, not theirs.

Five after that first episode with love, I fell in love again. It was never supposed to happen that way but things sneak up on you I guess. You start spending extra time with someone because the sex is good but it's casual and that's agreeable to both sides. Then a. . . bond develops over time because you start spending time together not having sex. You start thinking about that person if you have something exciting happen or you have something terrible happen and then for no reason at all. And now you realize that this person, who you weren't supposed to get very attached to is your best friend. There's a fine line from that realization to deciding that you're in love with someone. I had missed all the warning signs and was now, once again in love with someone who felt exactly the same way, but couldn't or wouldn't do anything about it. The day I left that town, I had resigned myself to the idea that we just weren't meant to get a shot.

If you're going to ask for the ball then you have to catch it when it's thrown to you. I did not do a good job of that. I realize now, about a year too late, that I never really learned how to put the two together; sex and love that is. Really I never bothered to reflect, or ask, or do anything, to see if I was still capable of loving someone that way before I jumped in. It's a little scary when someone loves you and wants you that much. I remember multiple sermons during my time in Campus Crusade for Christ, while I was still wildly idealistic about the way the world works, about relationships and how one person shouldn't be the center of another person's life. Like a lot of things that I remember from back then, that now seems like it might not be 100% accurate. That's what being in love is, right? Every world, actual and figurative, has to have a center. Something that it orbits around, something that holds it in place. Otherwise that world would just float around in space, colliding with other worlds.

I lost someone. Entirely my fault, which for me makes it about a hundred times worse. Hindsight is like a punch to the gut sometimes, being able to see that there were so many opportunities to change an outcome if you'd just been willing to try. I lost someone. It's almost like I had two separate people, one who makes plans for the future with the woman they love and one who still wants there to be other possibilities, warring in my head. I'm not sure when in my life I started to let my integrity slide. I know it happens slowly, over time, you start to make exceptions for yourself. It's a big sacrifice to make, though, and since I can't even identify what I might have gotten in return for said sacrifice, and since I'm now sitting here lamenting, I sincerely doubt that it was worth the trade off. I lost someone and to that individual I want to say that I'm more profoundly sorry than you could know. It's my loss.

People might read this and people might not (it'll definitely be one of the two of those). I hope now to learn and to do better in the future; to be better. Hope is important and I believe that it springs being able to better ourselves; to change ourselves into people of greater character. I guess, if it ends up that we eventually have to give up on a dream, that our best hope is that we become better in the process of chasing it.