Past the ones they’re missing

Over the years, many people have written me about why I don’t use this time leading up to Remembrance Day to post more in appreciation of living military members and veterans.
It’s not that it would be wrong, it’s more that in our home it’s not the narrative for the day.

In the end the reason is always back the moments like these.

One year, our church had a Remembrance Service.

Dh was going to do what he usually does: skip wearing his uniform and try to blend in.
Mostly because despite knowing people have the best of intentions, when Remembrance Day is focused on living military instead of the fallen, it makes him uncomfortable and he’d rather fade into the background.

But at the last minute the leadership asked him to be part of the flag party and so today found him pulling on his DEUs to the perfection he expects of himself and standing in front instead.

And I saw on his face the whole morning as he tried to reconcile people’s expressions of gratitude for his service with the grief and guilt the day brings.

In my head as this week comes I see the photo of Dh carrying his friend onto the plane and know those moments in time are frozen. He will carry those friends forever.
They all will.
Survivor’s guilt is a part of this life we rarely talk about but it drives more days than anyone knows.

It changes Remembrance Day. In fact, it makes the entire month just a little painful. He’s on edge, emotions are raw. His pain and that of those like him, it is out there in the world during the lead up to Remembrance Day, on the news, at the store, on the radio, and for those who make their job blending to the background, that’s not easy. He accepts it, though, because he’s proud to use the chance to tell people of the friends he’s lost and be sure they are remembered.

If I could describe it, as an outsider who has the privilege of standing next to my husband and those like him this day, it’s more of a funeral.
Imagine your friend died. Not just a friend, but a brother or sister. And they died violently and painfully, right there in front of you, or on the radio, or one vehicle up. Somewhere close but too far to save, even knowing there was no saving.
And then you rushed them to a plane, where you a had nothing but a quick moment to carry their covered casket to leave for it’s journey home, and then you went back to work. You never saw the memorials, the Highway of Heroes ride, the tributes or the funeral back home. You just went back to work and kept doing your job.

But then, after the tour of duty was over, for the rest of your life, once a year you’d go to a memorial and share the moment with the whole country. And the memories would be there but instead of grieving quietly you’d have to stand in front and others would thank you for your service while your heart ached.

On return from his 3rd deployment, many of Dh’s unit got memorial tattoos for the squadron mates they lost. Dh got this.

It’s why, when others point to him and those still here this week, he is busy pointing us towards the friends they’ve lost and all those fallen instead.

Not because he’s not grateful for your appreciation, but because the only way he reconciles the fact that he came home is by using the time he’s been given to remind you of those who didn’t.

I know many of you will take this week to show your gratitude for current serving military and living veterans and that’s lovely of you.
Just don’t take the awkward uncomfortable response you might get from some as ungrateful.

It’s just that they might not know how to see themselves past the ones they are missing.