“It’s strange,” Bob said, “but what I remember most about Dad at the end is how he never flinched or cried out when they gave him all those shots.”
“Yeah,” Joe said.
“Did he ever talk to you about the war?”
“Never.”
“Me neither. We’re a lot like Dad.”
“No, we’re not,” said Joe, his voice breaking.
Bob looked over and saw tears in Joe’s eyes.
“We used to be,” Bob said, putting his arm around his little brother.
“Yeah.”