On Memorial Day, we remember the people who lost their lives while in the service. There are memorials for the people who were killed during the Viet Nam War. Polished stone reflects the visitors who come to pay respects at this remarkable, moving creation. Many names are there, yet there are many more victims of that war who will never have their names carved in that breath-taking structure.
People who were caring, lovable, compassionate when they began their service in the military, returned as shattered, fractured souls. Counseling, medication and time hasn't been enough to heal many of them. Painful wounds leak acid into their inner beings and these toxins sometimes spill on those around them.
With this understanding, I mourn the loss of my brother. His name isn't carved into the glossy stone and yet I lost my true brother to the naplam-dropping plane in which he rode. His gentleness and loving spirit was replaced by an evilness that is no longer welcome in my world.
So on this Memorial Day I mourn those fratured souls who live with one foot in this world, while still pulled back their living hell, by all they experienced many years ago.
**sigh**
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