I was drawn into the military from a young age, guided by the examples set by my father, uncle and father-in-law. Their influence, alongside my love for aviation, made the decision to enlist almost inevitable. That choice defined much of my life and set the course for my 49-year journey in the aviation world.

Memorial Day holds a special meaning for me, as it does for all veterans and active duty members. It is a time to pause, remember, and honor our fellow service members who are no longer with us. For those of us who have been part of that world, the day carries a quiet weight; the acknowledgment of the cost of service and the enduring bonds it creates.

I find it rare to find spaces that allow for such important recollection, that bring communities together over the shared purpose of granting room for that thing we all know and understand to be grief and loss. Our society is plagued with loneliness; it invades even the most intimate of feelings, making us feel as though we go through hard things alone.

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The best thing the military granted me was the connection to an alliance of people who experienced the same things I did, that cared about humanity and defending those who cannot defend themselves. The friendships that I have carried from my time in the military are vital to who I am and how I decide to navigate my life.

And yet, it is still true that we are in desperate need of gatherings that acknowledge the relationships that we can no longer cultivate.

I remember a young boy who once called me “Uncle” and in doing so, solidified my standing among my Hawaiian family. As the son of my best friend, I was proud to witness certain milestones in his life and to share a sense of kinship that comes only with family, in all its many forms.

The day Spc. Kevin Wessel was KIA will stay with me forever. Yet, knowing Kevin found his passion while serving his country brings a measure of peace.

The annual lantern ceremony is a unique opportunity that brings solace and comfort in the shared experience of grief and loss. It is a collective moment of honoring those we have lost, while reminding us that we do not carry that remembrance alone.

The first time I attended the ceremony, it felt like stepping inside an exhale, a release of everything I had experienced thus far in my life. It is almost a meditation and I found myself to be grounded in each moment.

Grief and loss are unmooring. They destabilize every aspect of one’s life. I find the ceremony to be an antidote to that feeling as it serves to provide even just a moment of unity for attendees. In a world that is grappling with high levels of loss, uncertainty, collective and individual grief, I believe there is no better way to spend a day dedicated to remembering sacrifice than by doing it together.

In many ways, I now view the lantern ceremony not simply as a tradition, but as a continuation of the same values that shaped my years in service. I wrapped my lantern in names of those I miss and bound it with messages I hope to tell them.

I held it throughout the ceremony, allowing my heartache to build up between those paper walls. And when it touched the water, surrounded by the lanterns of my friends, family, and fellow community members, I recognized something familiar; a gathering of people bound not by uniform, but by memory and this shared experience of holding onto something and being given a single moment to not carry it alone, to maybe even release, if only for a second, the hardest and sharpest parts of missing someone.

What are we on this planet for, if not to give ourselves and our loved ones moments like that?

Kevin, we salute your service, devotion, and ultimate sacrifice. Miss you every day.

Always, your Uncle Doug.
Capt. Doug Kelly