Some People’s Daddys Didn’t Come Home

If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s avoiding things I don’t handle well.

Like this picture.

Because when you love someone, you hate to see them hurting.
Yet every time I see that picture, I am confronted with my DH’s face, dusty and tear stained.
I’ve never seen it look like that in person, yet there it is.

It was there when I picked up my newspaper that morning, and on the news
report on TV.  It’s there in the Google search engine.  And there’s
nothing camera shy DH could do to stop that.

Because that’s his friend under that flag.

And that’s his shoulder his friend is on.

And that’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

Despite the dangers, the rockets, the sand, the fighting, the close calls, the IED’s and all those other things he experienced in 3 deployments to Afghanistan that he may never share with me, he will tell you it was the times he was on that tarmac while the piper played and they said goodbye before heading back to work…
those were the hardest moments.

And even though this photo is already over 4 years old, DH’s tears always, always make my heart break.

____

This is my grandfather.

He’s a 92 year old veteran of WWII.

When talking to DH about Afghanistan, DH told him about something he was given when he got back.  My Poppa replied “I was in the artillery.  All I got was deaf.”

Next week, DH and my grandfather, along with me and
the kids and my aunties, are going to the National War Museum.  Where
my Poppa and my husband can take it all in together.

While it’s an easy label for my Poppa, I rarely, if ever, think of DH this way…. but they are two war veterans.

Dh would never put himself in the same category, but it’s true.  Two very
different wars that they both volunteered to fight.  Two very different
experiences of battle, of hardships and of tragedy.

And they both came home.

With stories that will make you laugh, stories that will impress you and stories that will break your heart.

But home, where they get a chance to share those stories together.

And for that, I feel infinitely fortunate.

__________

Sunday, November 11th, is Remembrance Day.

And by it’s very nature, Remembrance Day is not about those who are still with us.

Remembrance Day is not about the shoulders that carried the burden.

It’s about the men under the flag and the families they left behind.  The families that can’t hear them tell their stories, the soldiers that won’t get the chance to be called Veterans.

Canada doesn’t really have a Veteran’s day.  So on Remembrance Day, many people choose to honour all those who serve and have served.

I can respect that.  I certainly won’t argue that those men who have come home deserve a day of respect for what they’ve gone through.  I am proud to stand with DH on Remembrance Day and every day, knowing what it means to him. This year, I will be close enough to spend some time that week with my Poppa, too.

But we can’t forget who the day is  really about.

I don’t…. I can’t expect everyone to feel the same gut wrenching
heartbreak as I do when I see that first photo of DH and his friend.  Some things are just part of our families journey, and we each have our own.  I am blessed to be able to share ours here.

But I do hope that wherever you are, you will take a moment to remember that by the very fact that you are alive in this country with the freedoms you enjoy, you owe that to someone’s sacrifice.

A couple years ago my family was interviewed about Remembrance Day. That was the same year I wrote this blog that tells exactly what that day means to me.

And when they asked a then 5 year old Drama why Remembrance Day was important, she said this:

“Remembrance Day is important because some people’s Daddys didn’t come home.”.

The story of this video is here.  I hope you take a moment to watch this week.

Lest We Forget.

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