Musings, Sacrifice

Each year I watch the PBS Memorial Day Concert and each year I cry, remember my Dad who left when I was kid, not that he left, but his service, his being wounded,  who would state into space, off in another world, often.   Even after he left, when I would go see him weekends at my grandmother’s he’d go into a another world and he looked so sad and lost.  I also remember that I was told never to sneak up on him, never to startle him, ever, and it was an almost ominous warning, not to do that.  Much alter I realized that in those moments he was probably back in the Pacific, and when he did come out of it, it took him a few seconds to recognize me.  Even after I stopped going there and later on met people who know him, my grandmother, they said he would often be sitting outside just staring, lost and sad, but they didn’t want to startle him, so they would wait for him to come out of it.  He never spoke abou t his service, and what he was remembering etc…  Dad was a quiet man, not at all a fighter, which would make me mad at times as a kid.  Maybe he had seen more than enough fighting in the Pacific and his mild personality meant he didn’t have any fight in him, especially if he was going back during those times then he was doing enough fighting in those memories.  When I was watching the concert and they sang the Navy song, I stood, hand on my heart and looking up I whispered “this one’s for Dad, love you”.  Sacrifice by those standing by, with and for their country voluntarily, risk it all is amazing, and the scars left behind can not always be seen under the microscope, same goes for parents who strive to teach their kids important moral and ethical lesson etc… Sacrifices come in many forms and some leave scars, and I saw the invisible scars with my dad, though he had also the physical one.  I thought about my own journey through fibromyalgia and there are scars you can see from procedures and if saw my kitchen, looks like a pharmacy and now to ease issues with IBS, hypersensitive digestive system, endometrial pain, more pills have been added to my regimen.  The scars of fibromyalgia, the unseen, come from the fibro and other issues that the fibro has made me for inclined to basically cutting off my social life, my socializing, and the sadness, however minimal that come from that.  I put on a good face, happy face for my mom’s sake and because I choose to.  The scars, they are there and isn’t that true of a lot of us, some scars are readily visible, while others not so.  What makes or breaks is not the scars, but rather how we process them etc.. and the support around us.

Namaste, Shalom and Amen