Being in the Army is like having a lot of siblings. Some you love, some you hate. Some you really hate. Some all of the above, depending on the day. After you get out most of those relationships fade to the periphery. They don’t extend past Facebook, or the occasional random get together. And yet, there is this unshakeable bond that forms even among the least likely of battle buddies. Because even when you hate them, even when you haven’t seen them in years, or decades, they’re still your family. For better or for worse. It’s a lifelong friendship that supersedes any of the traditionally standard elements of friendship.

And all my friends are dying.

In the military, burying your friends is a terrible but very real occupational hazard. But then you make it back home. After all the years and all the deployments you think, okay, we made it. We’re safe now, we have each other. You think it’s safe to breathe. Just a little. But then the feelings you didn’t have time to feel during deployments start to catch up with you. And your friends, the ones who did make it home with you, they start to disappear. There’s suicide, car wrecks, overdoses… and now, cancer. Brain tumors, stage 4 things with fancy names, months or years of treatment. They’re my age. Younger than me. You flip through old photos and stare at Facebook pages until it’s too much to stand. It’s a dull, constant, ache that intensifies a little more with each loss. The reunion page starts to look more like an obituary page. And slowly, ever so delicately and gradually, the grief becomes fear. Am I just waiting for my turn?

I waited until I was out of the Army to have my daughter. My little miracle baby, the one all the doctors said I’d likely never be able to have. She is the light of my life. She takes my breath away. But for every minute I spend marveling at her perfection I spend another wondering if I’ll get to see her grow up. Graduate high school? Go to college? Start a family? Who will take care of her, who could I possibly trust enough to care for the most precious thing in my life? And the worst of all: Will she remember me when I’m gone?

Of course, I don’t have a crystal ball and I can’t stop the cancer cells from forming if that’s my fate. But there’s so much I want to tell her. So many stories. So many things I want to teach her. So much. And I hope that I will have that chance. But in case I don’t, I will write it all down. Every story, lesson, quote, joke. All the hopes and dreams I have for my beautiful girl. Here is where I will collect it all. And hope that one day I’ll share it with her myself.

But just in case I’m gone, my sweet Ellie, I love you more than words can say.