Remembering This Memorial Day

Dear Editor:

This Memorial Day, I find myself returning once again to the memory of my best friend, Lance Corporal Michael Glover. Mike was more than a Marine. He was the guy who always showed up, who never forgot a moment that mattered to someone he cared about. His laugh, his presence, his loyalty—those things are still with me today, nearly two decades after he gave his life in Iraq.

But there’s another man whose name I’ve come to speak with equal reverence: Captain John McKenna, Mike’s commanding officer—who was killed while attempting to save Mike’s life. At the time, I struggled to comprehend the bravery of that moment. I had never served in the military, and part of me assumed—maybe hoped—that Captain McKenna and Mike must have been best friends, bonded by something personal and close. How else could someone risk everything like that?

Later, when I spoke to the Marines who had served alongside them, I learned that wasn’t the case. As an officer, Captain McKenna lived apart, maintained professional boundaries, and didn’t share close quarters with his men. What he did that day wasn’t rooted in personal friendship—it was rooted in duty, honor, and courage of the highest order. He ran into danger because that’s what true leaders do.

That truth humbled me. It made me ask myself a hard question: Would I have had that courage? And I’ll admit, honestly—I don’t know. Probably not. But that admission only deepened my respect for Captain McKenna, and my gratitude to every person who chooses to serve this country knowing the risks involved.

This year marks 19 years since we lost them. But their legacies are as alive as ever—in the lives they touched, the families they came from, and the countless people inspired by their bravery.

To the Glover family and the McKenna family: Thank you. Thank you for raising two extraordinary sons. Thank you for your sacrifice. The lives they led and the honor with which they served will never be forgotten.

There’s something I’ve come to believe over the years—something I’ve felt again and again which inspired me to write this letter and share, Mike is still with me. Not in some vague, poetic way, but in real, tangible moments. I feel him in the music that seems to find me at just the right time. I hear him in lyrics that hit a little harder than they should. I see him in the timing of small coincidences—when I’m unsure, and suddenly, I’m reminded of his strength, or our friendship, or a joke we once shared. These are not accidents.

The spirit world speaks to us—through memories, sensations, symbols, and songs. It reminds us: We are not alone. Our loved ones are just on the other side, watching over us, sometimes laughing with us, always rooting for us. But we have to be open to it. We have to listen.

Memorial Day shouldn’t just be about remembrance. It should also be about reconnection. It’s a moment to tune our hearts, not just to the past, but to the presence that still lingers. These brave souls—Mike, John, and so many others—continue to live through us. In our love. In our actions. In the signs they send us when we’re paying attention.

So if you’ve been feeling something lately—goosebumps at the sound of a song, a sudden emotion that doesn’t quite make sense, a memory that won’t let go—don’t dismiss it. It might just be them, letting you know they’re still close.

This Memorial Day, I ask something simple: Raise a glass. For Michael Glover, who loved life and knew how to celebrate it. And for Captain John McKenna, whose actions defined what honor really looks like. Whether you knew them or not, their courage protects the life we live today. Toast to them with love, gratitude, and a promise that they will never be forgotten.

To Mike and Captain McKenna—cheers. You’re with us, always.

Maurice Murphy