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Yesterday was a great day.
After working with a gentleman for about six months—almost exactly the amount of time since my wife passed—we received notification that the VA had granted him a 60% disability rating.
For him, this was a giant win.
He served two tours in the Marine Corps and is a Desert Shield/Desert Storm veteran. One period of his service unfortunately ended with a bad conduct discharge after some things happened while he was young and going through a divorce. But he also had an honorable period of service, and that mattered.
He had tried three times before to receive VA disability compensation. He had worked with VSOs, but from what I could see, nobody had really looked deeply enough at his entire military history or separated the different periods of his service to determine what conditions could legitimately be connected to his honorable service.
He was referred to me by a retired Navy captain who had known him since they were Junior ROTC kids. Now, decades later, this Marine had served his country, lived with the consequences of that service, battled cancer and other medical problems, and still had never received the benefits he had earned.
So we went to work.
I used the same process I use with everyone: slow down, build the timeline, look at where they served, what they did, what happened to them, what they were exposed to, and what conditions followed them home. Then claim what the evidence supports.
Yesterday, he got his answer: 60%.
That means meaningful tax-free monthly compensation and access to additional VA benefits that can make a real difference in his life.
And I have to tell you, this one felt particularly good.
The last six months have also been some of the hardest months of my own life. I am learning how to live after losing my wife. I don’t think you ever really “recover” from something like that. You learn how to carry it. You find reasons to get up, reasons to keep moving, and hopefully reasons to continue being useful to somebody else.
Yesterday was one of those reasons.
Helping this Marine finally receive recognition for conditions connected to his service reminded me why I continue doing this work.
I hope someone reading this who has been putting off filing a VA disability claim—or who filed before and gave up—will reconsider.
I often describe VA disability compensation simply as workers’ compensation for service members. If military service injured you, made you sick, or caused a condition that continues affecting you today, there is no shame in asking the government to honor that obligation.
You don’t have to exaggerate anything.
You don’t have to claim something that isn’t true.
You just have to do the work, document your story, and advocate for yourself.
Sometimes you may need someone beside you to help you do it.
Yesterday reminded me how thankful I am that, at this point in my own life, I get to be that person for somebody else.
The Life-Saving Power of Blood Donation
There are moments in life that transcend coincidence—moments that remind us of the deep interconnection between people, acts of service, and the enduring power of compassion. My wife and I recently experienced one of those moments firsthand.For years, we’ve both been regular blood donors. It was never about recognition or reward—it was simply the right thing to do. We believed in it. We knew that a single pint of blood could mean the difference between life and death for someone we might never meet. What we never imagined was how this quiet act of giving would one day come full circle in our own lives.Over 30 years ago, I required an emergency blood transfusion after surgery. I had been discharged from the hospital, only to collapse at home from undetected internal bleeding. As my strength faded and my consciousness waned, two pints of blood were administered, and within minutes, I felt myself come back to life. I will never forget that sensation—the sudden clarity, the renewed energy, the overwhelming gratitude for whoever had made that donation.Fast forward to the present: my wife is fighting cancer with a strength that humbles me every day. Recently, her care team determined she needed a blood transfusion. I told her what I had experienced—that maybe she, too, would feel the same miraculous lift. And she did. That night, she slept peacefully. Her color improved. Her energy returned. It was an almost immediate renewal of life.In that moment, all the years we spent donating blood felt like a sacred thread—woven into a story we could never have predicted. One act of generosity can become someone else’s lifeline. And sometimes, that “someone” is the person you love most in the world.Blood is more than a clinical fluid—it’s a vessel of hope, a symbol of our shared humanity. Donating blood is not just a medical gesture; it’s a profound act of connection. When we give, we’re not only offering a piece of ourselves—we’re becoming part of a legacy of compassion that could touch lives in ways we may never see.I encourage everyone reading this to consider becoming a donor. You may never know whose life you’ll save—but one day, that life might just be someone you love.
