Dear Uncle Hero

The first time I truly remember meeting you was when I was really little.  I found you folding laundry in your room. You were in your teenage rebellion stage, with your long shaggy hair. I didn’t know you, and I didn’t know how important you’d become; not only to me but this country. All I knew was that you taught me how to fold socks that day.  

A few years later, I began to see you more often, every other weekend I believe. I became closer to you than I did my imaginary friends. I remember running up to you and yelling your nickname, “Uncle Benny”. You’d yell “Niece Natty” back, and pick me up and hug me close. I loved your hugs, mostly because they made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I was always happy to see you, even when you were a, as I called it,  “grumpy gills”.

Do you remember that time you, my dad and I built a snowman? It was really cold outside so dad and you bundled me up in a big coat and gloves. The snow had just fallen earlier that day and I was so excited to build him. You pushed its tiers through the yard, making big balls of snow. We assembled this man, not giving up until we were done. I don’t know what time it was when we finished, but I know it was dark outside. When we all three went inside, we were greeted by a nice meal and hot apple cider.

Spending weeks at Grandma’s over the summer is sometimes the hardest. It reminds me of all the adventures we had before you left. The times you pushed me in the tire swing under the big mulberry tree or how you’d sit on the roof of the old shed grandpa now uses for the rabbits. We’d make funny jokes and play board games together. You’d open my drinks for me, or make me lunch if I asked nice enough.

It feels like ages since you graduated and left for army training. I remember sitting at your graduation, not realizing this was going to be one of the last times I would see you. Not realizing that you’d be in Germany for nearly 4 years and that for the first two I wouldn’t get to talk to you all that much.

The first time I talked to you over the phone after you left, we talked about how school was going for me and how deployment was for you. Grandma just let us talk for two hours, even though it was late for you. When you came home for a few weeks, I was so excited. It’d been so long since I had gotten a famous uncle hug from you.  Now it seems like we haven’t hugged for an eternity or two.

I miss you every day. I think of you. I think of you more often than you’d imagine. You have been one of the biggest male role models in my life. I’m proud of you, for being brave and strong. You left Kansas with a purpose, and here you are living it out.

I don’t need to call you a hero for serving for our country or tell you good job, because to me that’s not why you’re a hero. You’ve always been there for me. From the times I’ve fallen off my bike, to the moments when I needed you to tell me that it was okay. You’re always been the person I’ve needed you to be. Even back then when you had bad grades and now when you are 3,401 miles away from me.

Now other people see you as the man I’ve always seen you to be. The hero who never wore a cape, but instead wore nerdy glasses and faded blue jeans. The hero who now wears dog tags and combat boots every day to work. The hero named Ben.