Honoring The Hero’s of D Day

I’m not sure where my dad was on D Day, but he was somewhere in Europe, most likely in France. He drove a tank in one of Patton’s battalions. He was young. He was homesick. Many times he was afraid. He saw some horrible things during the battles in which he fought. I know he felt very blessed to make it home alive. He had friends who died fighting for our country. How sad it is to think of the thousands of U.S. soldiers who died on D Day. What a great sacrifice those men and all who risked their lives made during that terrible war. I’m blessed that my dad survived and did return home.

The picture of my dad holding me was made sometime in 1949. He had been home probably about four years at the time. He had gotten married to my mother and a bit later I was born. It’s hard for me to wrap my mind around the fact that in such a short time one of the most vile, evil men that has ever lived had been defeated and kept from adversely changing the lives of millions of people all over the world. All because of the men who died on D Day and those like my dad who were more than willing to give their lives if necessary so that we could remain a free people.

I think I was a little less than a year old when this picture was taken. My dad, Victor Brady, looked so happy. Who would have thought that 22 years later he would be gone? My dad died on May 2, 1972. He was 54 years old, I was only 23. I’ve been without my dad for 47 years. My memory of him has gotten a bit fuzzy. But I am thankful for the 23 years I had him in my life, and I am thankful that he was a wonderful Christian man who taught me to love God, to love others and to be kind. That is what I remember most about my dad. For 47 years I have been missing my daddy. I am also thankful for the veterans who gave so much by serving our country to secure our freedom.