I lost my pianist for chapel last week. He is the division surgeon for the First Cavalry Division. For some reason, he declined to extend his tour to keep playing for my chapel service. So, I've been moving through the customary stages of grief: from denial, anger, and bargaining, to where I'm at now, which is some combination of depression and acceptance. I was forced to play the piano myself this morning, forcing even more Soldiers to suffer for their country.