
Annually on the last Monday of May, American citizens reflect on the sacrifices made by military personnel in service to the United States. We pay our respects to those who have fallen while honorably performing their sworn duties. Often, the ones fallen are those courageous men and women whose tours have rendered them all but physically deceased.
There's no shortage of media coverage of the unfortunates struggling post-tour in VA hospitals, nursing facilities, or who are homeless. They are remembered on Memorial Day also, at least out of public courtesy, if not to shed deserved light on the plight of this nation's many wounded and aged veterans.
Then there are those whose physical tours may have concluded years prior, but who still fight private wars. Their challenges include mental scars, PTSD, and acute substance addictions, to name a few. I've been honored to know many of these fine, compassionate military veterans in the halls of 12-step recovery. For me, honoring them is hardly restricted to specific dates on a calendar. These survivors have, and continue to save lives far removed from zones of active military conflict.
Years ago it was a group of Vietnam veterans who validated for me that the reality of PTSD is not restricted to those who've survived village bombings, mine fields, fire fights, or other travesties of war. It was this same group of vets who demonstrated by example that, no matter how deep our personal despair, our lives could regain meaning and productivity. It was these same souls who reinforced the fundamental truth that to simply make oneself available to another in need can often be the highest spiritual calling one can answer.
Reverend Tex, Purdy, Farmer, Tommy... God- how I miss you all! I still cannot thank you enough. Words will always fall short of the mark. Please help me to carry on where you guys left off.
I sought my God,
but my God I could not see.
I sought my soul,
but it eluded me.
But then you made me -
kicked my ass and made me -
Carry another brother first.
Therein I found all three.
I sought my God,
but my God I could not see.
I sought my soul,
but it eluded me.
But then you made me -
kicked my ass and made me -
Carry another brother first.
Therein I found all three.
It is sweet.... bitter sweet lyrics...
Well said fugi!
Thank you for remembering those veterans who survived the wars and returned to a different battle at home. Those who struggle to recover from wounds unseen.
Very nice Fuji and well said, and also thanks for thinking of those that have a little different kind of battle to fight.
fugitive,
For me, honoring them is hardly restricted to specific dates on a calendar.
Thank you for such a poignant article. My heart is full reading this quote. I am ashamed sometime of the blatant hostility I see or hear from people in regards to our military men and women. We owe them our gratitude and our respect no matter what our personal beliefs may be.
Wow, fugi, just stumbled upon this. Good article.
We can indeed fugi. I have written a ton of pieces working my way through the struggles. If you ever want to read anything, I'd be happy to share. I praise and criticize the substance and myself intermingled in the pieces, all, so it's like listening to Gimme Shelter while watching the Faces of Death.
Some of them are pretty cool. But you stay just like you are. I didn't like you when you were all f&^k*D up. :)
I kinda thought "the gang" was in hiding the last day, glad to see some of you around and kicking....
Man, Tedd, I'm past kicking - (Thank you Lord)! Closer now to kicking the bucket. (Thank you again Lord) :)
Closer now to kicking the bucket.
Whoa !! Hang on, My definition of kicking the bucket is kinda sorta the last thing you do on this earth...
I think Mr. & Ms. Spiders are hiding or don't like my new picture :-( I'm bummed....
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