Next to the medal box lay the tightly folded triangular service flag of Lewis Vance, kept under clear plastic to keep the dust off the navy wool.

Seeing Lewis’s name on the corner tag brought back the freezing salt spray off the coast and the sudden silence after the explosion.

I reached past the flag to lift out my old deployment logs, and my fingers hit a thick cream folder tucked into the bottom seam of the trunk lining.

I pulled the folder out into the light of the bare attic bulb.

Inside was a three-page notarized document dated November 14, 2012, with my grandfather’s bold, slanted signature at the bottom of every page.