The following letter and poem were sent to me from a dear USMC combat wife named Christine. Her husband, Ed, served with the 2nd Battalion,7th Marines, Golf Company in Vietnam. Like myself, she, and her family are no strangers to PTSD. Through no fault of their own, our combat Marines continue to suffer the horrors of war, and so do those who love them.~DR When my two older boys were in school, they used to come home very upset because in history class if there were three pages on Nam, that was it, and of course they knew so much more of what their Father and other veterans gave. It really bothered them that so little was even mentioned. The youngest son is 7 years younger, and by the time he got to high school, nothing had changed, but my husband's condition had worsened over those years, and of course, he knew even more now. Josh saw everything unfolding much younger, and then movies were coming out, and this kid read everything he could get his hands on. He had classes with all the same teachers my older boys had living in a very small town. They were asked to write a poem, and he submitted what I am sending to you now. Several boys left the room, many girls cried, and one of the teachers I always found indifferent to kids in general had to compose himself after hearing it. They published it in a county poetry newsletter from different schools. My kids always made it clear how proud they were, but the youngest took it a step further. He would tell it like it was as to what the war, and coming home, had done to so many guys, and he started to spread quite a bit of respect through that town. When Desert Storm started, and his two older brothers both went together, the town actually held a vigil, and prayed with a pine tree whose yellow ribbons filled every branch until the boys came home. Sometimes you can make a difference, although it was nothing like Nam, the town made sure the Gulf War veterans knew they were supported. Ed was again hospitalized through all of this, so this poem really was from my son's heart. He wrote it at 15 years old. If you'd like to post it, perhaps someone who's father left home, or could not stay, sees it. They may understand they were not alone, and it was never anyone's fault. I have never shared this before, but I read some of the poems on your site, and I really think it is fitting. The support of our sons, especially the youngest, to this day is a big part of what keeps my husband going. Sometimes it is like they have reversed roles, and other times this son's need and love for his father is just what my husband needs to get through. He was born 7 years later than the other two, and I still believe it was a gift from God that helped both of us during the worst of all of this. ~Christine Cooley CHANGES As
I think to myself His
life has changed more for the worse He
tries his best, but his mind will not ease itself ~Josh Cooley~ [Home]
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