For my dad on Veteran's Day 2019

I never knew my dad. I have pictures of him and my mom together; pictures of him holding me when I was just a few weeks old in 1970, but that’s it. His mom sent birthday cards until she died when I was 10, but I didn’t grow up knowing her or the family. My dad basically became estranged from his family. Except for contact with his older brother, he just wandered away. No one knew what happened. They likely didn’t expect much of him. When a family member heard that a S.W. (full name withheld) was shot in a drug raid in 1977, his mom tried to find out what happened. She even hired a private detective but could never determine if that was in fact her son. She died 3 years later never knowing whether S.W., by all accounts her favorite and smartest child, died in such a tragic and frankly disgraceful manner. Stories are that his older brother came home while his mom was ill and confirmed it was S.W.…he knew for sure. That was 1980.

In 1993 as the internet became more accessible, I tried using my dad’s social security number for information. I also started a letter writing campaign to all 50 states trying to find a death certificate. Oddly there was never any information about him available. To this day the only thing you can find is his date of birth and date of death, 1990 not 1977, on the SSDI. I would later discover that it was as if his existence had been “wiped”.

Last year on October 11th I received a note from someone thinking she was my sister. She had grown up knowing all about me and assuming that I knew about her-I didn’t. She had amazing stories of our father’s life and love with her mother. Over the next few days I discovered my dad met her mom in the Pentagon. My dad originally enlisted as a Marine, then went on to complete training as a Navy Seal, spoke fluent Korean, achieved multiple blackbelts and loved motorcycles. That’s just the beginning. She had wonderful stories her mom shared with her about the 5 years they were together before she was born. There were, however, many stories that raised more questions than provided answers. My dad was troubled and so her mom left my dad just before her birth and she never met him. It was all so contrary to anything I or his immediate family knew.

Within the bits and pieces of information and rumors in our family, witness protection had been brought up but certainly never confirmed. Even so, my dad’s disappearance in our family was related to cocaine so I don’t think anyone gave it credence or tried to find out for sure. What we all knew was that my dad’s older brother had the most information and frankly wasn’t talking. He was a bit of a loner after separating from the family fold and as a career Army guy himself, a bit of an enigma. I’d started tracking him down years ago but for some reason never reached out…until now.

What happened over the next few weeks still doesn’t feel real to this day. Where I had spent a life with unanswered questions and feeling somewhat sad that I didn’t know my father, my chest now held a gaping abyss that was simultaneously painfully vulnerable and pathologically numb. Although my uncle initially tried to deny all the information I had, he finally relented. He still claims that my sister doesn’t exist although DNA proves otherwise. I was able to confirm that dad did not in fact die in 1977 and likely did not die in 1990. He may or may not still be alive but certainly had to be moved to protection. He was a good guy that had to play a bad guy. Regardless, our dad is gone. The cost of his service was denying all of us and our children his presence and what he could’ve added to our lives. My son looks so much like my dad at this age. I wish he could see that.

He left at least 2 daughters that have spent their lives wondering who he was, what he was like or at the very least, “what happened?”. He has another son that was born between me and my sister. My dad called my mom and told her about him when I was about 4. My sister, 10 years younger than me, knew of him as well. I am so grateful that my sister reached out to me and that we at least have each other. We share something that is unique and special and bonds us for life. Our brother is likely out there as well, somewhere.

This story isn’t about my family because as weird as it sounds, we can’t be the only ones. My dad suffered from PTSD and that’s why my sister’s mother had to leave. He was struggling. Back then I don’t imagine we really talked about it, but I wish we did. The things he did, the things he could never talk about, the things that forced him to leave everyone and everything, he did because it was his job. It was his responsibility to his military station. Let that sink in.

We say “thank you for your service” but our country, our government does nothing. There are so many charitable organizations that aide Veterans and that’s bullshit! We shouldn’t NEED charities to help our soldiers. It should be a given that if we can’t afford to help them when they come home with housing, mental health support, job training and a damn dog if they need one - we can’t afford to send them in the first place.

The cost of service is so much greater than we realize, and it can last for generations.

On this Veteran’s Day I honor my dad. I wish your mom had died knowing you were one of the good guys. In my heart I always knew you were…