A few years ago, I wrote “Zack’s Story” in an effort to ‘help’ him during his counseling sessions and to help him express things from the past that he just couldn’t let go. Now, I feel compelled to write the rest of the story, the end of his life here on Earth: A bright-eyed, young college boy, motivated by the national tragedy of terrorist attacks on September 11 and the need to pay for that college education, volunteered to serve in the National Guard. Soon, he left for boot camp where he was trained to be a warrior. This is where the arches of his feet caved in from marching, making it forever painful for this corporate fitness major to run. It would also cause him back problems and make sleep difficult for the rest of his too short life. Eventually, he received orders to put that warrior training to use and spent about a year in Bagdad with his new brothers and sisters, and terrorists who wanted to see him dead. He was forever changed in Bagdad and something so terrible happened there that it would haunt him every day and night for the rest of his life. Somehow, he was expected to return to life as usual. The boy who spent months training to be a warrior was expected to simply turn the warrior off and return to being a citizen soldier, finishing his college education. Now carrying the burden of war everywhere he went. He voluntarily returned to Iraq about 1 year later, still haunted but trying to move forward, push the past behind him and do what needed to be done. When word came in that there may be a third deployment, panic set in. He was unable to put the uniform on. He froze. This warrior, who was trained so well to be tough and fight, had an invisible problem in his head. He felt weak and much less than the warrior he was trained to be. He was honorably discharged with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He could beat it. He returned to civilian life, got a job and a house but was always haunted. Booze put him to sleep. Until it was too much. He thought a bottle of pills would put the demons to rest forever but the light shined through and told him to keep fighting. And that he did. Now unable to work because of the PTSD along with foot and back pain, he went back to school for recreational therapy, gardened, volunteered at the VA and food bank, went to counseling appointments, PTSD therapy groups, doctor’s appointments, was prescribed and took many pills, got a dog, trained the dog to be a PTSD service dog, made several visits to the acute inpatient psychiatry units at the VA… Except when he couldn’t get himself to leave the house. Those times where he used the bottle to try and find rest for his mind. It never ended. It was always there. A 31-year-old young man, unable to work a typical job, unable to sleep, with pain in his back and feet and haunted by the demons of war. And the bottle wasn’t enough. Therapy wasn’t enough. Pills weren’t enough. Nothing seemed enough. He could only see one way out and he took it. His life on Earth ended but his legacy still lives. It lives in Missy and the Home Depot employees who volunteer time to improve the quality of life for veterans, it lives in Gary Tanner through his work with Michigan Wounded and Returning Warrior program, it lives Stiggy’s Dogs, it lives in the Veteran’s Refuge Network, and it lives in all of those who have heard his story when we think of him as we decide how to vote, how to spend our money or share his story with others. I miss him every day. I wish he could have still seen that light through the darkness. I am comforted by my belief that I will see him again in Heaven some day. He will be bright-eyed, happy and whole.
Posted on: Sat, 18 Oct 2014 16:47:18 +0000
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