I returned to duty six days after the funeral and remain in service because Grandpa taught me that important work is often invisible by its nature. The general did not make my record honorable that morning; he merely made an existing truth audible to people who had judged what they could not see. Becca and I speak on Sundays now, carefully and without pretending the past never happened. Each year, I visit Grandpa’s grave wearing the same black coat and stand quietly among the white stones. I do not give him a speech, because he would have disliked the ceremony of it. I repeat the words he told me when I was seventeen: the work is mostly invisible, and that is not a flaw but its shape. Then I leave Arlington and return to the work he trusted me to keep doing.