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Tyler enlisted in the Marines when he turned eighteen. It was a good decision for him. He needed structure, direction, something to channel all that restless energy. When he came home after boot camp, he was different\u2014straighter posture, sharper tone. He wore his uniform to family gatherings even when it wasn\u2019t required. He referred to himself as infantry, even though he was still a private first class, an E-2 working his way toward E-3.<\/p>\n
He had earned the title of Marine, and I respected that. But there was a new edge to him, something I hadn\u2019t seen before. He talked about boot camp like it was the hardest thing anyone had ever done. He made jokes about other branches, especially the Air Force. \u201cChair Force,\u201d he\u2019d call it, laughing. \u201cFlyboys are soft.\u201d<\/p>\n
I let it slide. Rivalry between branches was normal. It didn\u2019t bother me. But over time, I started noticing a pattern.<\/p>\n
I had helped Tyler a lot over the years. When he was preparing to enlist, I proofread his paperwork. I coached him through PT when he was struggling to meet the minimums. I drove him to appointments when his car broke down. I paid for gear he forgot to bring to training. He relied on me, and I didn\u2019t mind. That\u2019s what family does.<\/p>\n