Hope BlogThe steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies never come to an end.
They are new every morning. Therefore I will hope in Him. |
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He was young but he seemed old. We regularly had the same conversation over and over again. Sometimes he got stuck in a loop and would say the sames words 2 or 3 times within the matter a few minutes. With us it was small talk, because we didn't know how to go deeper without arguing or getting angry. We always talked about the weather. We always had that. I had the chance to take care of him in his final months. And I sat with him as he struggled for his last labored breaths. My dad was drafted into the army as a young man and sent to Vietnam. Demons followed him home and haunted his dreams and his life. Until we moved him to a nursing home he chased his demons with bourbon. The loops that he would get caught in were the result of many years of chasing demons. He got very little support from the government he had served, and the support he did get was more detrimental than helpful. He self-treated his undiagnosed PTSD with alcohol. He was an alcoholic. I miss my dad. I miss talking about the weather. I miss his phone calls to bring him kleenex and fried pies. I never doubted for one second how much he loved me and he never missed an opportunity to tell me how proud he was of me. On this memorial day I remember my dad. He didn't die in combat, but his death was the result of a war. The conflict, long over, never ended for him. Terry Neal Harris SP4 US Army Vietnam |
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