I always loved this song, it was one of my favorites from the first time I heard it. With news of the war so much on the forefront of our minds, it always made me think of our soldiers and get a bit teary eyed. I’m the daughter of a former Marine, the niece of a career Marine and the niece of an Army man. No, this isn’t going to get political, don’t worry. We’re not going there.

On Aug 2nd, 2007 the song took on a much more personal meaning. My Father was diagnosed with cancer. It was in his lungs, liver, lymph nodes and in his brain. It was inoperable and the prognosis was not good. We were told without treatment he might have three months, with treatment maybe six. Maybe.

It was devastating, for all of us. My husband had already been out of our lives for some time, my Dad was for all intents and purposes Father of my children. He helped in so many ways, and not just with the simple things like transportation for school and fun, but also the important things like pride and honor and self respect. My boys would not be growing into the fine young men that they are without his guidance.

The day we found out I drove home from the hospital in Austin. I remember feeling numb, I knew I should cry, I knew that I was terrified, but it wouldn’t come yet. I needed it to come. I needed to let it out before the boys got home and I had to tell them what was happening. My youngest is a special needs child, with light cerebral palsy and some developmental delays and learning disabilities thrown in. It was going to take planning and care to help him to understand and deal with what was happening to his Granddad, on top of dealing with it myself. I had to break down and cry before I told them, because I knew there was no way I’d get through without crying anyway, I couldn’t let that be the first time I broke.

I sat down at the computer, more from habit than anything. I opened the browser and visited a few sites I frequent, though I couldn’t tell you now what they were. I ended up on YouTube, and the first video I clicked on my favorites was Glory to the Brave.

And yeah, if you guessed I have tears running down my face while I type this, you’d be right.

It finally let me cry, let me grieve, let me find the strength somehow, from somewhere, to get up and fix dinner. To be, well, if not perfectly calm when the boys got home then not a hysterical wreck either. The song ran through my head constantly after that, though I couldn’t bring myself to sit down and listen to it again. I listened to lots of music, as always, it soothes the soul, lifts me up, lets me release anger, music has always been a way of coping for me and at that time it was perhaps even more so than usual But I didn’t listen to Glory to the Brave again. Not yet.

We lost my Dad on Sept 22nd. I’d had a rough night, didn’t sleep well much then. Finally gave up and got up around 4 that morning. The house was quiet, I sat down at the computer and before I could do anything my cell phone rang. My ring tone for Mom was Rush, Tom Sawyer. I knew before I ever picked up the phone. When I hung up, before I woke up anyone else in the house, I put on Glory to the Brave and said my own private goodbye to my Dad. I cried, and again I found the strength to do what I had to do.

I didn’t listen to it again for the next few days, while we struggled to understand, to cope, to plan. When Mom and I talked about music for the memorial service I brought it out again. We played two songs at the service. The first was for my Dad, Toby Keith’s Love Me If You Can.

“I'm a man of my convictions. Call me wrong, call me right. But I bring my better angels to every fight. You may not like where I'm going, but you sure know where I stand. Hate me if you want to, love me if you can.”

That was my Daddy in a nutshell. A former Marine, a 26 yr veteran of the police force, a graduate of the Academy at Quantico, he was the first SWAT team leader in our city, a homicide detective and a man who believed in protecting what he loved and that right should always work hard to prevail.

I played Glory to the Brave for my Mom, gave her the lyrics to read along as she listened. She agreed, that was the song that we would play for us, for the survivors. For the Marine Corp honor guard and the honor guard from the PD where he spent his career. For the friends he’d made through the years, new and old, the kids who called him Granddad and there were so many more than my own. He was the closest thing a lot of those kids had to a father, and he was always there for them.

From that point until we spread his ashes three days later I don’t think I listened to anything else.

After the service I couldn’t listen to it again. The pain was too raw, the emotions too much. In time I learned that when I was thinking about Daddy it helped to bring it out again, to listen, to cry, to let myself grieve. But for a long time that was the only time I could listen to it. Now, two years down the road, I’m finally to the point where I tear up, I whisper to my Dad how I miss him, but I can listen to the song.

And I’ll cherish it always. Because, for me, it’s about my Dad.

Godspeed, Daddy, I love you.

Sad about this cancer thing. This song is good for strength thoug. Keep on.

So if I understand correctly, your husband is also passed away? When having two children... I can't really call you lucky, especially in that case. I hope it helped a bit, to type it all down.

Good luck with all of this.

Well, on the husband note, no, he didn't pass away. Just decided he couldn't handle having a special needs kid and walked out. He lives less than 10 miles away, but chose not to be a part of our lives. Mine, ok, I'm a big girl, I can handle that. Not saying it was easy, but you go on, right? The kids, well, let's just say if I described exactly what I think of him on those terms I probably wouldn't be welcomed back.

But I am lucky, really. I had my Dad till I was 44, lots of people aren't that blessed. My Mother and I are still close, both in heart as well as living just a few miles from each other. And my youngest, who spent two weeks in NICU after his birth, may not win any foot races but he gets around fine on his own two feet. Since we were told when we left the hospital that chances weren't good he would ever walk, I'd say we're quite blessed.

And it does help to type it out, get it in focus. It was a hard time, still is in a lot of ways, but the fact is that I can look back now and, while I certainly still cry. I can smile now through my tears. I can recall the good times as easy as the hard times at the end. Grief, I think, isn't really a process with an end. It's just something we learn to live with, and to deal with, and it makes us appreciate the time we're given with those who mean the most.

As I said, I've always used music as a way to help cope. It helps me to define my emotions when they are at the most raw stage, helps me start to find words, so that eventually, as I did with this, I can find my own. Glory to the Brave helped a lot with this situation. I remember when my Papa died I didn't start "feeling better" till I happened to catch Stevie Ray Vaughn's version of Little Wing. Don't know why it helped, but something about it lifted my heart a little, gave me a little hope and strength. Sometimes that makes all the difference.

Your story really is sad. I'm sorry about that. But those things happen, like Joacim says in Glory To The Brave: "Nothing on Earth stays forever".
Glory To The Brave is the song that really can give you strenght to go on. No one really close to me haven't died yet, but still, this song (I mean the words "nothing on Earth stays forever, but none of your deeds were in vain") sometimes helps me to go through some hard situations.