I turned fifty five the year the Council announced they were building a monument to honor everyone who'd died fighting for peace and they sent me a letter asking if I'd be willing to speak at the dedication ceremony.

I read the letter three times sitting at the kitchen table while my coffee went cold because the thought of standing up in front of thousands of people and talking about all the dead made my stomach hurt.

"What's wrong" Jax asked when he found me just staring at the paper.

"The ...