For many years I knew that every Veterans Day there was always one thing I could count on - at some time during the day, no matter where I was, or what I was doing, my phone would ring. I would answer and then hear her say, "I was just thinking about you and wanted to say, "Thank you for your service."
Therese Godfrey didn't call because I am a veteran. She called to honor our friendship. Hell, she knew I only volunteered for Vietnam to find out what the "thousand yard stare" was all about. She also knew I had found out, and in the process,, had contracted a double dose of it.
Therese Godfrey knew that because "I had it," beneath my skillfully crafted facade, I am as loony as Rambo and Joe Pike rolled into one. She knew I could transform faster than Clark Kent and come out of my phone booth like The Hulk on steroids, she had seen it happen.
Therese knew all of that, and she was still my friend. She would fight to sit on the front row of one of my seminars and listen to my old stories, laughing and crying like she had never heard them before.
She knew all about me, and it didn't scare her. Nothing scared her. Therese told cancer, "You may kill me, but you won't whip my ass." Cancer did kill her, but it didn't whip her ass.
Today, Therese won't call and say, "Thanks for you service" - at least she won't call on the phone. Today, and every day, she calls in my heart and every day I get it. Her call isn't about service. It's about the power and beauty of friendship.
Thank you for your service my friend.