PTS (Post-traumatic Syndrome) is the word they use for what is wrong with my son. Home from two separate tours of duty in Iraq (lasting over a 20 months combined) and out of the Army (but going into reserves to finish out his fulfillments)he now tries to adjust to the old way of life which seems to be forever eluding him. He can't sleep and when he does he has the same nightmares - he's there trying and doing his job, a job he freely signed up for before 9/11 but is in a country where he is not sure he should be, nonetheless doing his job - a bomb goes off - trying to take of himself and those around him - being ordered not to help the small children crying out in pain and death. You see he was there that day the bomb went off and killed all those innocent children. In all the things he did in Iraq - this is the one that lives with him daily. He could not have foreseen that these children's own people would set of a human bomb that would kill and hurt so many - and when it did go off there was nothing to be done - our own children were hurt as well - he did what he had to do - save his own brothers and sisters and secure them first - and he did the right thing.
But now those children - and mind you he was able to help some - but the ones that haunt him are the ones who never had a chance and he feels guilty and the weight of that guilt keeps him up at night. He is just a child himself. The lack of sleep has made him moody and irritable. He looks a mess and I am told by those who remember - he looks a lot like those who came back from Vietnam - another place that we really should not have been. He worries that people will hold against him that he did his best but just could not save those children on that day. I worry that he will be turned against by his own country - he worries as well - he thinks everyone knows his shame and is talking about him behind his back and he is paranoid because of the lack of sleep. I tell him that he did a lot of good over there, he said so himself as he was witness to election day. But those children - those poor beautiful children who had their whole life a head of them - they are forever embedded in his heart - because he could not help them because he did not know there would be a bomb that day. I tell him to live his life by remembering those children - mourn them and live everyday to make life better for those children still alive and all around him. I pray everyday that peace will take hold of my boy and allow him to sleep without these nightmares. I pray for all others who are going through the same thing and are looking for the same kind a peace. I pray for peace everywhere. But mostly, I pray for my son to become once again the happy young man he was before this war (that is no longer even considered a war) hurt his heart.
Here they are - my kids. Well my little grown-ups now. Although they still fight like cats and dogs. This was a good day at a wedding of a friend and they decided to be nice and civil to one another. They have such different personalities - they are on opposite ends of everything. If one says white the other says black - there is no grey with them. Ever seen the commercial with the little kids and the one is almost but not quite touching the other and keeps saying "I'm not touching you", well that is these two. Has been for years. But for all that they are very protective of each other as well. Gotta love 'em - their my pride and joy - even when they are arguing!!
