Sharon Estill Taylor has no firsthand memories of her father. The World War II fighter pilot was shot down over Germany in April 1945, when Taylor was just three weeks old. When Taylor was young, her grandmother often shared stories about their fallen hero. “Nana, it’s OK,” Taylor assured her, “I’m going to find him and bring him home.”

Grandmother gave Taylor a silver box containing some 450 handwritten letters between her parents, spanning from their high school to the year 1945. Also included were six months’ worth of unopened letters. Taylor learned that on April 13, 1945, Estill had taken off to attack a railway station and destroy Nazi supply lines. She found a reference to a possible crash site near the town of Elsnig in eastern Germany.

With the collapse of the Berlin Wall, it became possible for Taylor to visit the potential crash site. She connected with German military historian Hans-Guenther Ploes, who agreed to help her try to find and identify any aircraft and human remains. In 2005, a team, accompanied by Ploes and Taylor, led a three-week unearthing. From the moment she set foot on the site, Taylor could feel that her dad was there. DNA analysis confirmed that the remains were his. On a sunny day, Taylor and her family buried her father’s remains at Arlington National Cemetery. Beyond fulfilling her promise to her grandmother, Taylor says her mission has been to get closer to her father and his legacy.

She has also come to realize that there’s an entire population of Americans who’ve lost parents and loved ones in military conflicts overseas and wish they knew more. Taylor shares her story widely, raising awareness of soldiers who never return from war and the significance of recovery efforts. An estimated 81,000 American service members’ bodies remain unaccounted for from past conflicts, but fortunately there are constant efforts to locate the fallen and bring relief to their families.

Taylor will never know exactly what her father’s final moments were like but she feels, in a way, that father has finally come home.

I made a promise to myself on the way down to the vacation beach cottage. For two weeks I would try to be a loving husband and father. Totally loving. No ifs, ands or buts.

The idea had come to me as I listened to a talk on my car radio. The speaker was quoting a Biblical passage about husbands and their wives. Then he went on to say, “Love is an act of will. A person can choose to love.” To myself, I had to admit that I had been a selfish husband. Well, for two weeks that would change.

And it did. Right from the moment I kissed Evelyn at the door and said, “That new yellow sweater looks great on you.” “Oh, Tom, you noticed”, she said, surprised and pleased. Maybe a little puzzled. After the long drive, I wanted to sit and read. Evelyn suggested a walk on the beach. I started to refuse, but then I thought, “Evelyn’s been alone here with the kids all week and now she wants to be alone with me.” We walked on the beach while the children flew their kites.

So it went. Two weeks of not calling the Wall Street firm where I am a director; a visit to the shell museum though I usually hate museums. Relaxed and happy, that’s how the whole vacation passed. I made a new promise to keep on remembering to choose love.

There was one thing that went wrong with my experiment, however. Evelyn and I still laugh about it today. On the last night at our cottage, preparing for bed, Evelyn stared at me with the saddest expression.

“What’s the matter?” I asked her.

“Tom,” she said in a voice filled with sadness, “ I don’t?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…that checkup I had several weeks ago…our doctor…did he tell you something about me? Tom, you’ve been so good to me…am I dying?”

It took a moment for it all to be understood. Then I burst out laughing.

“No, honey,” I said, wrapping her in my arms. “You’re not dying; I’m just starting to live.”