I, Scott Alexander Blackstone, born in Concord, New Hampshire on November 7, 1977, departed this earth on April 1, 2017. Ok, man, that’s way too formal for me already. I guess when you die, you’re supposed to talk about your life and stuff. So, here’s my life in review.

My Dad is a pastor. So, you know what that means. We moved a lot growing up. I lived in four different towns: Concord, New Hampshire; Westfield, Eastport and Ellsworth, Maine. Only one church and town did I ever call home though, Emmanuel Baptist Church in Ellsworth. The people of Emmanuel, that’s what made it home.

I loved sports of any kind. Give me a bat, a ball, a club or a fishing pole and I found my sweet spot. In high school, basketball was my thing. I scored 1198 points for Temple Christian Academy (I know the exact number, because my Dad is a statistic junkie. You’ll find this out as I continue. Everyone knows I have a horrible memory – thank you ARMY for all the concussions). My first job ended up being on a golf course and gave me a love for the game. No matter where I was, east coast, west coast or in the middle of the desert, I loved swinging a club, even if it was just a makeshift stick.

When I turned 29, I came home and shocked my parents by saying, “So...I enlisted.” I joined the United States ARMY and began my adventures travelling from one duty station to the next. During my eight years of active duty, I lived on five ARMY bases and served in three deployments (Fort Knox, Kentucky; Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri; Fort Benning, Georgia; Fort Wainwright, Alaska and Fort Bragg, North Carolina). The ARMY trained me in heavy equipment transportation, which allowed me to run convoys in the Middle East. On my first deployment to Iraq, I participated in 25 missions and drove 25,000 dangerous miles as a gunship driver guarding supply convoys with the 546th, attached to the 82nd Airborne (2007–2008).

The ARMY decided my time in the sandbox needed to continue. So, I deployed again with the 126th to Afghanistan. My training as a Heavy Equipment Transport (HET) driver to the Forward Observation Bases (FOB) scattered around Helmand Province took me on 13 different combat missions (2010–2011). Those months were the toughest of my life. Four of my closest battle buddies died in IED explosions before my eyes. Till my last breath, I wore a bracelet in honor of Joshua Campbell, Shawn Muhr, Devin Daniels and Colby Richmond. They were gone, but never forgotten.

My Dad and Mom would want me to talk about my eleven medals of commendation and the battle that earned me a purple heart. But, I don’t want the recognition. I never did. I did what was asked of me. We all did. People lost a whole lot more than me and should have gotten way more medals than I did. It was an honor to serve. Although when my time was up, I was more than ready to leave active duty and join the ARMY Reserves.

Life as a civilian looked different for me. I took my training from the ARMY and got licensed for a different kind of heavy equipment – construction rigs. I worked for Old Castle Lawn and Garden in Fayetteville, North Carolina, where I played in dirt with life sized Tonka trucks all day. I bought my first Harley Davison motorcycle and took to the open road. I loved the wind in my face, forgetting everything behind me.

Just when life was gettin’ really good, I got sick. I fought the hardest battle of my life, for six months. In the end, the hardest part of dying was saying good-bye to my Mom and Dad. Man, I love them. They have always been there for me, no matter what I put them through. But, I left them in good hands with my sister, Marnie, her man, Josué, and their son Judah, the most amazing little man I know. We didn’t have enough time together. I wanted to teach Judah to play golf, see the California coast, find a few more fishing holes with my dad and talk late into the night with my Mom like we always did. But, God had different plans.

I’m enjoying a better place, with people I haven’t seen in a long time, like my grandfathers (Stacey Meister, 1997, and Wendell Blackstone, 2017). I’m cancer free and living in unspeakable joy with the Lord. I was ready to die, even though I didn’t want to. I had so much more life to live. More adventures to experience. More open roads to ride on with my Harley. More golf holes to birdie. I told my sister before I died that I had no regrets. I always said I was “livin’ the dream.” I meant it, even in the dark days of war and loss and heartache. I loved my life, my friends, and my family. I was a blessed man.