with a request.
In reality, I'm a military daughter, wife and mother. But it's as a mom that I'm writing this. I'm writing this in between fits of rage and tears. A diary was posted this morning, which I commented in and which I refuse to give any more energy to, that prompted me to come clean here and make a humble request. If it weren't for the diarist replying to my comment with such a smug, mildly veiled antagonist response, this diary would probably not have been written. Maybe I should thank him/her, but I won't. The diary's already been tagged a troll diary, but those of you who really want to get the skinny on what prompted this, please feel free to go through my comments. I'm sure you'll find his/her curt reply but I choose not to post the link to it; I just can't give the diarist the satisfaction.
My son, who's now out of the military, spent 12 months in Iraq. No one knows better than me the difference in the person he was before he went into basic training and the person he was when he finally arrived home for good when his contract ended. And no one knows better than me how hard it was being a part of helping him try to pick up the pieces. To make things crystal clear, he wasn't broken, but he was unmistakably damaged. He's been out of the military two years now and he's doing much better. He's attending college and doing well, but make no mistake the healing is a continuous process and isn't complete and, most likely, never will be. The damage has been done. He'll never completely erase the memories.
Unless one is a military parent, one can only imagine the anxiety, worry and heartache that goes with watching the news. I can't express enough how little is actually broadcasted on MSM news stations about the realities of what's really going on in Iraq, or were at that time. I can't express how grateful I was, at that time, to have access to the Worldlink Channel. I watched as troops, possibly from my son's unit (my son won't confirm or deny this as he knows however he answers will only break my heart), picking up body parts and putting them in cardboard boxes. I watched when the area he was stationed was hit with mortars. I watched the black smoke rise and wonder if my son was dead, injured or alive. I was the one on the phone with his superiors at the base back here in the states when they'd call monthly with updates . . . all of them filled with surreal optimism about how my son and his unit were doing, very much unlike what I was watching on Worldlink. I was the one who silently thanked everything of superior intelligence than myself for internet service being set up almost three months after his arrival in country and was even more greatly thankful when he was able to set up an IM account. I was the one who sat up endless nights waiting and wondering if he'd be able to log on. I kept my computer speakers turned up loud in anticipation of hearing that familiar knocking at the door sound prompt that echoed through the house in the dead silence when the cats and I were the only ones awake, knowing it was him and that he was alive. He was the only person I had listed on my IM and knowing he was okay allowed me to breathe again, if only temporarily. And I was the one thanking every higher power I could think of, with tears streaming down my face, when my son walked through our front door when his tour ended.
And so, my request is this: Please, unless you actually have experienced having a son or daughter deployed in a forward area during wartime, please exercise the good manners I'm sure you were taught as a child when you choose to voice your opinions on how military family members should or shouldn't behave . . . especially if you're aware that they've lost a loved one. For a moment, if you're able, put yourself in their shoes, and exercise restraint in passing judgment on their actions, whether you agree with them or not. And please try to remember that in many cases, less is more and in some cases silence may be the best response. Thank you. (C)