There Is No Such Thing As Closure
Mar 8, 2010 13:18:52 GMT -6
Post by Moderator on Mar 8, 2010 13:18:52 GMT -6
There Is No Such Thing As Closure
by Jeff Seeber ... March 8, 2010
For the past few months, I've been awash in memories of people and events from 40 years ago. Another eight months of remembering lay in front of me. The length of time I spent serving in the United States Navy during the Vietnam War represents barely one-thirtieth of my life, yet it has affected every day of the four decades since.
I have never been one to pay much attention to anniversaries of anything other than my wedding day. I don't recall pausing for even a moment for the 25th anniversary, or any other anniversary, to contemplate any of the things I experienced during my time in the service. Rather, I think of many of them almost daily ... the guys I knew ... the buddies I lost ... and occasionally the moments that changed our lives forever, including the instant that some of those lives ceased for all eternity.
Many of the Vietnam Veterans I know are experiencing the same thing as I am. We're paying close attention to our 40th anniversaries for some reason, maybe because many of us suspect we will not be around for the 50th anniversary. We know we won't be living into our 80s and 90s like the World War II Vets have. We're dying in our 50s and 60s from a variety of cancers related to Agent Orange and dioxin exposure, heart attacks, and the toll taken when many of us tried for years to drown our memories in alcohol.
My 40th anniversary remembrances are causing many of the same things that other guys are experiencing ... the return of the nightmares, remembering the seconds of horror that last for minutes or longer, seeing the faces of the guys we lost flash before our eyes when we least expect it, the thousand-yard stares we thought had ended long ago. It's as if we're being forced to revisit all of it one final time before it's our turn to have the Flag we served under folded above us and to hear the last few notes of Taps drift off into the air to join those that were sounded for our buddies at their funerals.
Some things are different these 40 years later, however. Now my grief for my friends is soothed by a sense of good fortune that I had the privilege to know them, to serve with them, to become brothers with them. Now when I meet fellow Vietnam Vets I take much more care to shake their hands and pay close attention to their stories. I've noticed they are doing the same with me.
We seem to know that it must be done now before the opportunity is gone forever. We have always shared an unspoken bond with each other, forged sometimes in fear and blood. Now is the time to speak it aloud while we still have the chance.
Almost all of the guys I know agree on one thing... we now seem to be able to say things to each other that we would never have been able to say were it not for the men and women who have served since September 11, 2001. For the first time in America's history, two distant generations of Veterans have come together in mutual respect and in support of each other.
Years from now, people might assume it was the Vietnam Veterans who reached out to those who served in the Global War On Terror, but it was they who reached out to us. At nearly every deployment ceremony and welcome home celebration since four hijacked jets changed everything, our younger brothers and sisters have mentioned something like, "This is the way the Vietnam guys should have been treated". We heard them, loud and clear. Many of us have lived longer than we should have, or expected to, because of them.
Simply stated, America's newest generation of warriors liberated their elders. They did it on their own, without any prompting from us, expecting nothing in return. That's the very definition of honor and respect. By recognizing us, they allowed us to begin publicly remembering our buddies and to be able to recall our own service with a sense of pride that we thought was gone forever. We owe them everything.
As I write this, the War On Terror has lasted longer than any of America's wars except Vietnam. Anniversaries of the 5,000-plus who sacrificed their lives since September, 2001 occur almost daily. Their families no doubt wonder with each passing year if anyone else remembers their loved ones.
Many of us who served during Vietnam do remember, and will remember, each and every one of the magnificent men and women who have left us in the last nine years. They are our brothers and sisters every bit as much as the buddies we lost and the friends we served with. It would have been an honor to have served at their side. We will never forget them as long as we are alive. We owe them everything.
I wish it were true that the passing of the years brought some relief from the pain of loss or the longing for just one more minute to spend with a husband or a wife, a son or a daughter, a brother or a sister, a friend, a buddy, a comrade-in-arms ... but such is not the case. I know now, after all these years, that it should not happen that way.
The never-ending tears allow us to remember their smiles. Imagining the horror of their last moments allows us to remember the peaceful times we shared with them. Viewing a photo of them in dress uniform, when they appeared to be indestructible, allows us to remember them when they were at their very best. And that is what they were ... the very best, the elite of the elite.
Few people ever know someone who was willing to sacrifice their own life for a noble cause like freedom, or for principles such as those outlined in the Constitution of the United States, or for a buddy fighting next to them in a combat zone.
The families of the fallen and many of those who have worn a military uniform knew such a person. We spent some time with them, even though it was far too brief. We laughed with them, we cried with them, and then we cried over them. The tears still fall today and they will continue to fall for as long as we live.
There is no such thing as "closure" ... nor should there be. We must never forget.
by Jeff Seeber ... March 8, 2010
For the past few months, I've been awash in memories of people and events from 40 years ago. Another eight months of remembering lay in front of me. The length of time I spent serving in the United States Navy during the Vietnam War represents barely one-thirtieth of my life, yet it has affected every day of the four decades since.
I have never been one to pay much attention to anniversaries of anything other than my wedding day. I don't recall pausing for even a moment for the 25th anniversary, or any other anniversary, to contemplate any of the things I experienced during my time in the service. Rather, I think of many of them almost daily ... the guys I knew ... the buddies I lost ... and occasionally the moments that changed our lives forever, including the instant that some of those lives ceased for all eternity.
Many of the Vietnam Veterans I know are experiencing the same thing as I am. We're paying close attention to our 40th anniversaries for some reason, maybe because many of us suspect we will not be around for the 50th anniversary. We know we won't be living into our 80s and 90s like the World War II Vets have. We're dying in our 50s and 60s from a variety of cancers related to Agent Orange and dioxin exposure, heart attacks, and the toll taken when many of us tried for years to drown our memories in alcohol.
My 40th anniversary remembrances are causing many of the same things that other guys are experiencing ... the return of the nightmares, remembering the seconds of horror that last for minutes or longer, seeing the faces of the guys we lost flash before our eyes when we least expect it, the thousand-yard stares we thought had ended long ago. It's as if we're being forced to revisit all of it one final time before it's our turn to have the Flag we served under folded above us and to hear the last few notes of Taps drift off into the air to join those that were sounded for our buddies at their funerals.
Some things are different these 40 years later, however. Now my grief for my friends is soothed by a sense of good fortune that I had the privilege to know them, to serve with them, to become brothers with them. Now when I meet fellow Vietnam Vets I take much more care to shake their hands and pay close attention to their stories. I've noticed they are doing the same with me.
We seem to know that it must be done now before the opportunity is gone forever. We have always shared an unspoken bond with each other, forged sometimes in fear and blood. Now is the time to speak it aloud while we still have the chance.
Almost all of the guys I know agree on one thing... we now seem to be able to say things to each other that we would never have been able to say were it not for the men and women who have served since September 11, 2001. For the first time in America's history, two distant generations of Veterans have come together in mutual respect and in support of each other.
Years from now, people might assume it was the Vietnam Veterans who reached out to those who served in the Global War On Terror, but it was they who reached out to us. At nearly every deployment ceremony and welcome home celebration since four hijacked jets changed everything, our younger brothers and sisters have mentioned something like, "This is the way the Vietnam guys should have been treated". We heard them, loud and clear. Many of us have lived longer than we should have, or expected to, because of them.
Simply stated, America's newest generation of warriors liberated their elders. They did it on their own, without any prompting from us, expecting nothing in return. That's the very definition of honor and respect. By recognizing us, they allowed us to begin publicly remembering our buddies and to be able to recall our own service with a sense of pride that we thought was gone forever. We owe them everything.
As I write this, the War On Terror has lasted longer than any of America's wars except Vietnam. Anniversaries of the 5,000-plus who sacrificed their lives since September, 2001 occur almost daily. Their families no doubt wonder with each passing year if anyone else remembers their loved ones.
Many of us who served during Vietnam do remember, and will remember, each and every one of the magnificent men and women who have left us in the last nine years. They are our brothers and sisters every bit as much as the buddies we lost and the friends we served with. It would have been an honor to have served at their side. We will never forget them as long as we are alive. We owe them everything.
I wish it were true that the passing of the years brought some relief from the pain of loss or the longing for just one more minute to spend with a husband or a wife, a son or a daughter, a brother or a sister, a friend, a buddy, a comrade-in-arms ... but such is not the case. I know now, after all these years, that it should not happen that way.
The never-ending tears allow us to remember their smiles. Imagining the horror of their last moments allows us to remember the peaceful times we shared with them. Viewing a photo of them in dress uniform, when they appeared to be indestructible, allows us to remember them when they were at their very best. And that is what they were ... the very best, the elite of the elite.
Few people ever know someone who was willing to sacrifice their own life for a noble cause like freedom, or for principles such as those outlined in the Constitution of the United States, or for a buddy fighting next to them in a combat zone.
The families of the fallen and many of those who have worn a military uniform knew such a person. We spent some time with them, even though it was far too brief. We laughed with them, we cried with them, and then we cried over them. The tears still fall today and they will continue to fall for as long as we live.
There is no such thing as "closure" ... nor should there be. We must never forget.