014“It will never repay you for what you might have been” was the comment from a friend-his wife was the therapist that attended my hearing before the VA Judge in 2007.

I have found myself in this place. It is new to me. The place is a private one,so far-I think it is. The place are these moments where uncontrollable weeping sets in. I know it is my manner of thinking that may provoke the tears. But-honestly…it is thinking about my friends statement!

It is not just that he had said it. He said nothing new-nothing that I had never thought of,as a matter of fact-I’ve thought about it almost every day of my life.

As a boy my grandfather ‘Sir’ must have had something to do with my being interested in buildings-architecture. Sir was an iron worker-he worked on many of the large and historic buildings of Washington DC. I wanted to grow up and be an architect-I collected pictures of houses and house plans,small little pictures that I glued in paste books,long lost.

I’ve sat here in my woods these past few weeks and with out warning the weeping begins. It feels good,sometimes. But-the memories and thoughts that invoke the tears…just like my friend said,I can never be re-payed for what has been lost.

What the repay part of this is in reference to is the amount of money my claim against the Veterans Administration came to. It was enough to pay my mortgage-a small mortgage I had taken out to pay credit cards a few years back. I know I am weeping about that too-the safety of it,the peace of mind-but more above that,the return of something that is so dear in my heart from all the blood and sweat and tears that went into owning this wooded spot. Our home in these woods is also a direct result of my PTSD issues. I brought my family here literally homeless. We began life here in a pup tent-the kitchen a Coleman stove-the shower a 55 gallon drum on a stand-the toilet a random hole dug here and there. The shelter we ended up having (and it still stands) was built out of lumber carried home home board by board-hitch hiked almost 20 miles each day. Those days began at 0300 when I began my 7 mile hike to the main highway to hitch a ride to work a job of labor.

But-it cannot repay me for the career that I found hope that could be mine as a U.S.Navy Officer,the love I found when I faced the USS Vulcan for the first time-the sounds of the ship and the lights from her masts. I was being offered a career in this-and my brother shut those dreams down with his own jealousy.

I wept these past few weeks about many things-good and bad…my son,a U S Navy CPO has invited to attend a father son event on his submarine. He has been in the Navy since the day after he graduated high school in 1990. He has known all of his life how much I loved the Navy-the short time I was able to enjoy it. My sons both know that I was raped in an unusual experience while I served-my brother effected a story that ended me in a detention barracks. My older brother was on the ship I had requested to serve on. My sons know all of this-after all,they’ve watched me live it all their lives. That is why I weep-because of them and how they have achieved and reached the goals I wanted so much to make in my own life. I think it is of a higher Spirit that has set the timing in motion that I will be on a cruise on a U.S.Navy ship as if to offer me a private personal salute to my want and desire to have served.

I also have wept because I have come to a place in my life where I have found friends that that know the hurt I’ve known since I lived through barracks D….lived not being the choicest of words. My friend that made the comment last week about how much had been lost and how nothing could replace it-he made me weep out of the gladness there is sweet fellowship for me.

I did receive a settlement from the Veterans Administration. They assumed responsibility for the PTSD that is result of the time I spent in barracks D. I paid my land off like I said. I bought myself a newer truck with hope I might be able to travel for a while. My best thinking is on the highway-my favorite sanctuary is the cab of a truck. I paid my debts and now there is nothing left except for a gratefully accepted monthly check-forever. But-my friend is so right in what he said.

My Dad will never know. He will never know why I am crying at this very moment…as I am trying to write this. Only if the higher Spirit I know of shows him from there…my Dad will never know that the Judge sent me papers saying there was ‘no wrongdoing’-that I had been wrongly accused,and wrongly abused because of it. My father was why I wanted to be in the Navy-to show him I could deliver. I’ve always lived in the failure he settled with being my way-because he only saw that I served 7 months in the U.S.Navy-and two of those were spent in a detention barracks,just before I was escorted to the base entrance and given a discharge. My father never knew I received an ‘honorable discharge’.

I weep because of that too.

One Response to “‘wrecked’”

  1. deborah Says:

    Mourning, mourning, mourning…..morning where the dew lines the spider webs
    and gives light to mystery, night, and of the essence of life. Understanding, and being present. The sun warms, the night cools. The hawks see…windows….the hawks fly….doors open. The strength it takes to stand and to breath—and, to breath,
    and to breath…….blessings of friendship….thank you for what you bring to so many, and to us. Deborah and Rob

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