My Father’s Brothers

There were always men from the Chapter who marched in the parade. As the mourners came out to escort the man to his grave, they saw a truck bed full of men in uniform driving full tilt into the parking lot. They jumped with youthfulness off the truck and into formation to flank their fallen brother. It was a site to behold.

They were with him in life, in his passing, and as he was lead to his resting spot. They stood by as the prayers were read and the tears shed. They watched another of their kind as he said good-bye to his brother with his own family holding tight to what they cherished. They signaled the respect of a nation in a 21 loud salutes.

They all remembered. Not only did they remember the friend they had lost but what it meant to be a soldier, the war and peace they had shared, and the pieces that they all struggled to put back together.
Little did they know that while they were doing just what they thought was right, they were changing the world just a bit. They were watched this whole time by the niece of the hero, and the daughter of another, and the grand daughter of a man who had fought in the war that had come before. They were bringing home and to light the togetherness, unity and a war that she had never truly understood before.

You can hear all about it. You can hear about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder but until you watch your dad battle through the night, you really do not understand. You can read about the little boys walking up to a soldier asking for candy while hiding a bomb but it isn’t real until you hear a grown man cry while he tells you how is 3 buddies lost their life to that boy. In addition, you really do not understand the ties that bind the men and women who deal with it until you see them together and raw like they were at the man’s graveside.

In the eight or so years since then the woman has tried to find a way to show others. She has tried to support the veterans from the wars past and to protect the ones fighting in this time period. Things are different now. The children of soldiers that had worn spit will not turn on the soldiers fighting now. They will however, fight to have them come home safely and to the services they need.