I believe it is important to occasionally consider our independence and the myriad occurrences that have created and maintained it and those who preserve it. There literally are millions … here is one of them.

Ten years ago or so, I managed a senior living community. It was so much fun. I met wonderful people all 55 and older, so they all had interesting stories. Norm walked in my office unannounced one day and his bearing demanded my attention. He was a man of 90-plus years leaning on a cane, and as I clasped his hand, his grip buckled my knees. He stood before me a vision of the glory he once was. I knew I was looking into the clear blue eyes of a man’s man. He was a World War II veteran who landed on the beach at Normandy before the invasion. Did you catch that? He was, in fact, the tip of the spear. He was a frogman. Before our modern-day Seals were the frogmen.

As we became friends, he described his duties on D-Day and I sat in humbled amazement at this hero who sat before me, thinking I was not worthy. As he recalled, he was in a fast craft just after midnight on the English Channel with his fellows. They were discharged into the early June cold water about 2 miles from shore with 100 yards between them, carrying only a knife. Their assignment was to locate and swim to underwater traps, obstacles, mines and bombs that lie waiting for our assault craft that would be loaded with our boys just hours later and disarm them. Upon accomplishing that task, they were ordered to proceed with stealth to the beach and wait. Weapons and ammunition would become available from the fallen. A grim reality that may lay ahead for these young men.

I will never forget Norm nor his remembrances nor his bravery nor his honor nor his sacrifice.

This was not even his most harrowing tale. He held these stories until the end of his life. He could not bring himself to tell his family, yet he felt the need to bare his soul and I became his chief confessor. He needed to unburden and I was the chosen one to hear of the heroism and hell and how it was his burden to carry the events from 77 years ago throughout the rest of his life. He broke down in my office that day, a God’s honest hero cried as a despairing child. He cried for the loss, he cried for the sorrow, he cried to finally be free of the guilt he kept quiet in his heart for so many years, and he cried for forgiveness. I offered to pray with him, but that was a bridge too far for this man on this day. He promised he would later. I hope he did.

I am speaking not just about those who sacrificed their lives. Many who served and lived were profoundly changed. These soldiers then came home different, some in physical pain, some emotional, some spiritual. Never forget this, or them, when you celebrate your independence.

How many of these stories have taken place for our country since before the first Independence Day? It has been said that freedom is not free. A price must be paid. Maybe you know someone who deserves your thanks or your ear.

May God bless the very few still with us who served in WWII, others from Korea and Vietnam and other godforsaken outposts, those now serving for our independence, those to come (and there will be many). And may God bless Norm because there will be none like my friend. R.I.P.

• William Peterson recently retired to Ottawa after working in the hotel industry for 40-plus years. He can be reached at dbarichello@shawmedia.com.