She's 23. Always. Lithe and beautiful. 
Full of life with passion and emotion. A full smile with eyes that lit up, and softened even the hardest of hearts. She is my Holly. My lover, my confidant, my best friend, the mother of my children, my inspiration, my Wife.
    There isn't a day that I don't thank God for her, or our babies. He knows, 'cuz she is with Him now, praising Him, and waiting for us.
     Holly's life was many things, but always it was Life, Lived. Her parents saw to that. Each day wasn't wasted. I remember when we were stationed at Fort Benning, she posted a large note off the computer, "CARPE DIEM!!". It was how she approached, no, attacked, each day. "Seize The Day!!". See, she had to. It would have been easy to succumb, to just cry "uncle". But Holly's Master Sergeant Dad and gentle Mother instilled a Warrior ethic into their girl that wouldn't let her quit. Every day she made a conscious decision to fight; to stick to the exhaustive regimen of three times daily therapies for 30 to 60 minutes each. To injest 100-200 pills of various types. To swallow the digestive aid pills that upset her stomach, exacerbated her bowel problems, yet helped her body to retain some nutrients. She hated what the steroids were doing to her. She needed them to aid her lung functions, to breathe, but they transformed her model-like looks and figure. I didn't care. I loved her no matter what. But she cared. She felt self-conscious. She fought so long and hard for that day, THE day.
     My neighbor woke me up. Our phone was out and the hospital had called. The lungs were in! I thanked God and drove way past the speed limit to get there. We talked before they took her. We cried. We laughed. We prayed. We held each other. We went over the "What If's" one more time. They prepped her. I kissed her, squeezed her hand. She told me she loved me. I fought tears as I watched her go, then lost it once she was out of sight.
     Her recovery was miraculous. Then, a post-op infection set in quickly, and she died. They sustained her until her dad could join us. How can anyone be ready to hear the doctor ask, "Are you ready?".  I will never forget that moment, that crushing feeling.
     Holly had spent most of the last year of her life in a hospital, trying to stay "well" enough to be able to handle a transplant, should it come. Tied to a machine that made oxygen for her, as her tired lungs couldn't anymore. She dreamed of our future together; our children, our farm, our planned log home. Her own motorcycle. She had a dream of using our land as a ranch where disabled kids could have a quality, esteem-building, loving, summer camp. Then it seemed as if the rug got pulled out from under her, from us.
     I took our babies to the funeral home, early, to see their Mommy's body. They didn't quite understand, but they believe in the promise, the hope, of John 3:16. They know they will see their Mommy again, Because they too believe in Him.
     As I write this I have just returned from their room where they are sleeping. They miss their Mommy a lot. They still cry. So do I.
     I know something of courage. I have been a Soldier for quite a few years. I have seen men do incredibly brave things. I have never met anyone as brave as Holly. I think it may be actually easier to react to a singular situation where others later reflect and call those actions brave. But Holly, she had to awake each day, and fight, for her babies and her husband. "Carpe Diem".
     And so it is with the thousands who battle Cystic Fibrosis each day, and for their families. Please remember these children and young adults. If you know them as I have, as Warriors, battling for their very lives, every bit as brave as any Army Paratrooper, then you'd help too.
     Won't you please consider getting involved? It doesn't matter what brand of bike you ride, the ride is the thing. The money generated will help many young people.
     I've just been able to consider a new relationship, and one blossomed rather quickly. Yet, I still miss my Holly. One day I know I will love again. Still though, I will always love her.
 She's 23. Always. Lithe and beautiful.

 I RIDE FOR HER.

Major George Wheelock
United States Army
gwwheelo@mtu.edu