I Honor My Soldier, My Son

New Year, 1916, by Ada Harrison

Those that go down into silence.

There is no silence in their going down,

Although their grave -turf is not wet with tears,

Although Grief passes by them, and renown

Has garnered them no glory for the years.

The cloud of war moves on, and men forget

That empires fall. We go our heedless ways

Unknowing still, uncaring still, and yet

The very dust is clamorous with their praise.

I think one of the hardest things to deal with is having a son off in a foreign war. Those months were daily terror that I had to keep under wraps or my creative mind would have taken it to some dark places.  I clamored for information and there were just blurbs in the news.  I had to stop that.  I waited for a message, a call, a post from my son and every time I heard something from him, there was a huge sigh of relief.  Every minor hurt becomes huge.  It does something to you, permanently.

Then, when they get home, and if there are signs, serious signs, of PTSD, you felt even more helpless.  It was as if, when he was 'over there', someone was keeping watch for him, but, when he got home, and all the distress of what met him when he got off the plane, there was no one there for those longs hours of nights when I knew his suffering was beyond something of my ken.  I was his mom and I was helpless.  I was now the one thousands of miles away.

My son was now home, a single parent of two little kids, carrying a heavier load than he had ever had to carry in his life.  He was as low as he had ever been.  His dog stayed by his side every moment of every day.  He went through his personal hell, for those little kids.  The kids and his dog were his only beacon of light.  We were all more afraid with him home.  No one ever prayed harder.  We could only hope for guardian angels or something to sit near him and keep him going.

He made it.  His strength was beyond all of us.  He made it, got through it, as beautifully as that son is.  He continues to be in the army and is flourishing.  He met a beautiful young single parent mom and they eventually married and had spontaneous triplets.  Perhaps there was a master plan beyond us all.  No matter how rough it was, he has flourished, has been given commendations for saving a man's life during the B.C. fires, Is commander over his own unit, is an instructor, and beyond that, he is an amazing father of seven children;  his and hers and theirs.  

Today, I honor all the soldiers who have had to go on tour and come home with PTSD, , who come home with a suffering we cannot imagine , who came home to destroyed marriages, who come home to parent their children alone, who come home to rebuild every part of their lives and do so, purposefully and under great duress.  Those who carry on as soldiers with that built-in pride in their duty to country and become the epitome of someone a whole country can take pride in, can count on to keep our country, and others, safe.  I honor my son.

Master Sergeant Jordon... he is my own personal hero who prepares, again, to go overseas to provide training and instruction, before 2021, for others who are under duress.  God bless our soldiers.  God bless the children, the wives, the mothers, and extended families of those who offer themselves up in peace.  God bless my soldier.

©Carol Desjarlais 11.11.19