Have you ever realized at a very special moment that you are experiencing just that? A special moment? Like a torch passed from one runner to another; like a business handed down from father to son; like a sentimental piece of jewelry passed from one generation to the next.

I was privileged to witness such a moment recently.

I have been going on and on about ME. About my feelings in all of this as one son deals with the after effects of a real-life war that those of us twice his age have not and will not ever have to deal with. As another son begins a lifelong dream that would be absolutely perfect in every way if I weren’t worrying about Iraq and Afghanistan.

I have been thinking about how it effects me.

But it’s not just about me as I was reminded when my younger son gave me the honor of asking me to read a letter sent to him by his older brother. A letter he carries in his wallet and has the look of being read many times already.

I witnessed the passing of the torch.

Seven years ago our country was attacked but my older son was already signed up for basic training in the Army. Our family experienced what so many others did after that: having a family member in a war. While older generations remember the attack of Pearl Harbor, 9/11 may have had them feeling a sense of deja vu. I’m experiencing it myself these days.

With a little something extra.

A letter full of advice, pride, reassurance, trust, integrity and love has been written: an older brother giving a younger brother tips on how to make it through basic and beyond. Everything from the weeding of the weak to the strong…the mental and physical…listen to the men “who have been appointed to lead you-they have been in the thick of it, Jeremy, listen to them. If you do that one day you’ll be doing the leading-that I promise.” Re-stating again that he believes his little brother is the smartest guy he knows and will go all the way with his goals. Tips on not drinking and driving and respecting himself and the women he comes in contact with.

And a promise that fills my heart with hope and faith that those of you who have dealt with a loved one’s wounds and PTSD and suicidal moments: “I’ve got a million more things to tell you but that’s enough for now. I’ll be here for you if you have any questions. Never hesitate to ask me, little bro. I’m proud of you, Jeremy. One day you’ll understand exactly why. For now, walk tall and be proud of yourself, hero. I love you. Oh and congratulations on your Saints, too I guess. 8-4 not bad at all. And give our sister a big hug for me. Just do it and quit your whining!”

It was the passing of the torch. And I had a front row seat