It was the eyebrows
And the eagle eyes that lie just under them
Kind and wise
Intimidating when the need arose
Always when my cousin’s and I were rife with potential mischief
But always kind
You could never tell.
You could try and stare the truth out of him
But he would always win that contest
Especially when he wasn’t wearing his glasses.
Which was almost always
It’s hard to say what I miss the most
I recall so fondly, but only as a faded memory
Strange, that I can recall his eyes with full clarity.
I recall also, the look of pain
As his body waged war on him during the summer of ’96
Multiple tours in two continents; including Normandy and the Ardennes
And his body became his worst enemy
He died on a Thursday