Memorial Day

I have never put much though into Memorial Day.

I'm sure that's bad to say.

I get a day off work, and usually a burger, so all in all its a okay by way of being a holiday in my book.

Today I got a different outlook.

We watched a short video in church, as we usually do for a holiday.

I like the videos.

They usually get the point across more than someone just speaking.

 I guess to get something to hit home I need a visual.

(Although I'm not sure what exactly in it sparked my way of thinking.) 

Todays video was footage of soldiers fighting.

It spoke of sacrifice and our freedom.

Both I know I take for granted.  

I don't know too many men or women personally who have fought or are fighting now but I do know some.

While sitting there I started to think of the soldiers and their wives, children mothers and fathers.

I couldn't imagine going months with out seeing your son, daughter, husband, wife, mother or father.

Knowing they are where the are but doubting their safety.

Seeing and doing the unspeakable.

Or those men or women who are fighting now at 18, 19, and 20.

They are so young to be doing something so brave.

I don't think I could ever be brave in that way.  

My father passed away March 4, 2012.

He was 66 years old.

He died in a Days Inn Motel. Alone.

The official reason he died is unknown.

We do know he drank.

He drank a lot. So much so his body quit on him.

He was an alcoholic.

He made some pretty horrible decisions in his life. A lot of the contributing to his death and the fact that he died alone.

When my father passed away I didn't have any sort of relationship with him.

I didn't want to.

My mind was completely closed to any sort of compassion or understanding to the way he lived his life or the choices he made.

Today I still don't agree with a lot of the things he did but I feel the Lord has opened my heart a little.

I never thought I would be but I am thankful.

When my father was 17 years old he joined the United States Navy.

He set out to war. The Vietnam War to be exact.

Not sure if you are picking up what I am throwing down but just in case Ill repeat myself.

WAR!

We are talking guns, blood, death.

I'm sure in my wildest dreams I couldn't even begin to imagine what that was like.

From 1962 - 1966 my dad served on the U.S.Ranger

(When I was 17, I worked at retail store and was graduating high school.

And believe me life was "hard" by way of an immature girl standards.)

He, like so many others as 17 and was fighting for his life.

(for me understanding and compassion have started to sink in)

After my dad came home he got married an had 3 kids.

He drank. He made some bad choices. He left.

He got married again, he had 2 sons. He drank. He made some bad decisions. He left.

Then he married my mom. He drank. And didn't drink. And drank again.

Then my little brother and I were born. He drank when were really little and then he stopped.

And then he was a good dad (kind of).

He played with us. And spoiled us. 

He worked hard.

We went to Disneyland quite a few times.

And as I got older we would play basketball outside for hours.

I was young, naïve and pretty darn happy.

Ill even go as for to say that I loved him.

When I was 15 that world ended.

 He started drinking again and did some pretty unspeakable things.

He then went to prison for 4 years.

I never thought I would understand why he did all the horrible things he did or why he abandoned 7 children who desperately needed a father.

I still don't, and am sure I never will.

But I feel I have a better understanding as to why he drank.

I am not sure when exactly but I know my dad was diagnosed with PTSD.

An article posted at www.physiologicallytoday.com defines PTSD as

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is an anxiety disorder that may develop after exposure to a terrifying event or ordeal in which severe physical harm occurred or was threatened. Traumatic events that may trigger PTSD include violent personal assaults, natural or unnatural disasters, accidents, or military combat. 

It continue on to say,

Roughly 30 percent of Vietnam veterans developed PTSD. The disorder also has been detected in as many as 10% of Gulf War (Desert Storm) veterans, about 6% to 11% of veterans of the Afghanistan war, and about 12% to 20% of veterans of the Iraq war.

30 %??

This statistic is staggering.

I know this is why he drank. I know this is why he left time after time.

I hate it.

Why has this never hit me before?

I couldn't imagine having to deal with the images and sounds of war replaying over and over in my mind.

My father was a Vietnam Veteran who suffered for 45 years with PTSD.

My mom is a widow who stuck by an alcoholic for 35 years of marriage.

All while raising 5 children and obtaining an associates degree. 

I am a 27 year old daughter with 3 children who has lost her father.

I would have loved to have a father and have my children have a grandpa.

But those things will never be.

He has now passed.

His story stinks but that alone is not the worst part.

The worst part is I am not alone.

I know their are many men and women who have fought in the past, recently, or are currently fighting who suffer with PTSD.

I know that their are mothers, fathers, sons, daughter, husbands and wives who are dealing with the effects that it has on their loved ones themselves.

I am sad that the price so many have paid for my freedom has not hit me sooner.

I am thankful for the sacrifice that has been made. I am confident my outlook on Memorial Day will be quite a bit different from today on.

The question of if my dad was a good person is still up for debate.

He is defiantly not winning father of the year any time soon.

But I have a new respect for him and all those who have fought that wasn't their before.

Thank you to all those who have sacrificed their lives for my freedom.

************************

I am also thankful the my true Father.

The One who has opened my world to sacrifice, compassion, love, forgiveness, and freedom.

It is to Him that we are all truly in debt.