As far back as I can remember, there was Ted. Soft southern accent, gentle spirit, always making people laugh. Sometimes raising hell, back in the early days. And always helping out our family.

He had his own gig, too…something to do with boats…I don’t remember exactly what, but boats were in his blood. He served for a long time in the Navy, which is how he ended up in Long Beach, California and met my grandma and her brother. Fellow hell-raisers, by all accounts.

My grandma was the sometimes benevolent, sometimes not (but always loving to me), matriarch who had managed to build a successful manufacturing business, back when the deck was heavily stacked against women. You think it’s that way now? Try 1952.

Anyway, Ted started helping my grandma out around the house as she got older, especially after her husband died. And when my grandma couldn’t drive anymore, Ted drove her. And when my grandma couldn’t remember anymore, he helped her remember. And when she couldn’t function anymore, he helped her do that, too.

Only a handful of people came to my grandma’s funeral in 2016: her immediate family, her attorney, and Ted. That’s the last time I saw him. I didn’t keep in touch like I should have. When someone has been there as far back as we can remember, we kind of just think they’re always going to be there.

Until they’re not.

We found out this week that he died back in February. He knew he was loved and appreciated…we told him, and showed him, over the years. But still, too long had passed before finding out he couldn’t hear it one more time.

And so…today is Veterans Day, and ‘Thank you for your service’ sentiments are deservedly being offered to the men and women who have served, often heroically, in our military. And while I’m wholeheartedly on board with that, I’m thanking one veteran in particular, with you as a witness, who kept serving heroically long after his Navy career was over.

Thank you for your service, Ted Deason.