Sadly, about a week or so ago, someone in my squadron had taken his own life for an unknown reason. Throughout that week I hadn't been able to make any of the squadron formations or talks about it - I was in class for combatives and was leaving my duty area at around 6 or so.

Then it finally hit me - a name was said, and I froze. I'm not one for names, but when you give me a face to match - I'll remember you in a heartbeat.

The long weekend passed, and I hadn't gone out much being bedridden with a weekend flu, but I had planned on attending his memorial service on that following Tuesday. I planned to pay my respects.

Then, upon walking through the Chapel door, I received quite the shock when I was given a pamphlet in regards to contacting the family..

The man who had died was a man I knew as a friend.

The entire service I could hardly do more than try not to bawl my eyes out. A man I had bullshit the weekends with occasionally, given rides to, talked to in passing and gave shit to and joked with was now gone - nothing more than a helmet and a pair of boots now at the alter. It was a tragedy - and he will be forever missed.

It really hurts.. I've never had a close friend die before - and this was the first time it had actually affected me personally. All I can say now, though, is that I'll remember the good times, cherish the memories, and remember him for the professional soldier he was. His soul rests in piece, and so does my mind, knowing that we all cared for him more than anybody would ever know.

Live on brother. You helped our lives more than you'll know.