Sometime in the early hours of October 13th in Afghanistan, a place far away that I never desired to visit, a suicide bomber exploded himself. He took with him valued lives, including Dario Lorenzetti.
His friends from West point called him “Tex”, his girls (ages 6,4 and 2) called him “dada”, his wife “honey” and to his family he was a “son” and “brother”. To the rest of us, he was Dario. Dario, a selfless, smart man with a heart bigger than Texas who gave his life and left me here wondering why. How could someone so kind, so loving, ever be considered the enemy? As I head to Houston to try to give comfort to his wife, my best friend for over 35 years, I have no idea what to say or do. I’m sorry doesn’t do it. I feel so robbed and he wasn’t my father, husband or son. He was someone that made this world a better place for everyone around him blessed to know him.
It’s not about political views here. It’s about a life gone. A valuable life that in just less than two months was scheduled to come home to make pancakes with his girls more often, spend more time in his home again and hang out with his friends and family. He was in his last days of giving to this country after a year of foreign service and a young 42 years old.
God Bless you Dario and thank you. You are missed already and won’t ever be forgotten.