Posted by Andrea (Davis) Oliveau on August 25, 2015:

My father's death seemed, at the time, to be only a personal thing, without much fanfare or pomp and circumstance. We didn't have a service, his cremains were sent to West Point at his request, and life quietly moved on. My mother is still suffering his loss greatly and I find myself unable to help her move out of her grief. A little over a year has passed since he died, and today I found these pages. It's funny what you never knew about your parents. I know that West Point was the highlight of my dad's life. I know that the camaraderie, the experiences, and the friends he made during that time culminated in a sense of self that was intimately tied to West Point. He defined himself as a West Pointer, even when there were more years outside of it than he'd spent in it. His favorite stories were somehow tied to West Point, either by the people involved or the events themselves, and those still live on in me for I heard them so often. I know that his experiences in Vietnam changed him completely, although I do not know the specifics. He never talked about that time, but where there is smoke there's fire, and there were always signs that something from his past weighed heavily on him. I know that he loved my mom very much. They had an "us against the world" attitude and stuck it out through thick and thin. He was a good writer, and in the notes he wrote to her on special occasions, the love he felt for her is palpable. I suspect on some level, my parents saved each other. I know that he died feeling that his life was very satisfying. I believe I had the last really good conversation of my dad's life, as I was lucky enough to be there when he was lucid and willing and able to talk. He was ready to go, and he wasn't afraid. He didn't know what was in store for him, but he did not fear it. I know that in everyday things, my dad is still living through me. I know that he died too young as my 10 and 11 year old daughters don't know how funny he was or how many adventures he had in his life. I know that he thought I was a good mother and for some reason this fact alone makes me prouder than almost all of my other accomplishments. I know that I miss him, and I know that I will see him again. Our journey together is not yet done. Thank you to those of you who were there while he was defining who he was. Tom Anthony, you must know how much my dad loved you. Growing up with a "West Point Airborne Ranger" dad wasn't easy, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. I love and miss you, Daddy.

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