I did my best to hide my tears, to not let my Nana sense that I knew God was calling her home. There was no medical indication of that. I didn't need to hear it from them. I knew in that moment, that God was readying Nana.
Every Memorial Day, I take out a scrapbook my grandmother made over 40 years ago. Each page is filled with photographs of young men I've never met. Under every face is the exhortation: WHERE IS HE? My uncle's face is on page three.