This Side of Invisible

Today is D-Day, a day that never really meant anything to me.  Just some distant event in a long bygone war that I had no part in. I'd read about it in high school, briefly studied it in college and seen and heard reference to it on the news over the years, but I never felt connected to it.  That was, until I met my husband. A few days after we met, I drove from Idaho to Utah with Geoff (a four hour drive each way, a nine-hour round trip).  We talked of many things on that drive, but what I remember the most is how Geoffrey spoke of his granddad, John Henry Davies.  He was a large, Welsh man, a boxer in the Royal Navy.  He had died just over a year before I met my husband and Geoff had gone to see him before his death, had been there when he died.  There was so much loved wrapped around the words Geoff used to describe his granddad.  He told me of the last conversation they had; it was mostly one way as his grandfather could no longer speak and could barely open his eyes, but he