It was seven years ago. I still remember waking up at dad’s house, calling mom at the hospital, getting the news, Mr. McGreal giving his condolences, the wake, the funeral. It’s all still so vivid. His legacy lives on. He is still loved and remembered by his family. He didn’t make millions, cure cancer, or put a man on the moon, but he made sure everyone he cared about had enough. He served his country in time of need. He provided for his family and friends. I just wish I could have known him better.

Now I am 22, I have a lease, good credit, and a bar in my apartment. I have no clue where I will be this time next year but I am strangely ok with that. At this point, I know who I am, no clue what is happening, where I am going, or what the future may bring.  At camp Dennis said “The world is waiting for you.” It won’t wait forever.

I thank you all, the best is yet to come.

It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat

~TR