I was in the 7th grade and it was the Monday after Thanksgiving.  I don’t recall which period it was, but I was called to the office to go home.  Excited, I gathered everything I owned and sprinted to the office. There, in the office, stood my father in his Naval uniform, stoic.  My pace slowed and the excitement retreated from my expression and I became a question. I knew something was wrong, but what was lost on me. Slowly, I entered the office and he barely looked at me. Tense, like he was just trying to hold it all together.