Yesterday, one year later….

March 23 2007; I made an unassuming entrance back into the lives of my wife, my children and my parents. In that order. I spent a good chunk of my yesterday thinking about my last few days in Iraq, in Kuwait and finally in Gulfport, Mississippi before jumping in my rental car and heading home. I can tell you that I made the drive on my own but I’d be lying to you. Guilt was riding next to me. Strapped in and nagging me the whole way home. The drive itself took almost 20 hours but it is all a blur. I wish that I could share with you some of the songs that were playing on the radio that I sang along to and that kept me rolling along but nothing comes to mind. I did my share of crying. I cried for the guys that I went over with, the ones that went before me, the ones that getting ready to go over and finally, for the ones that will never come back. I fought with the guilt. My thoughts switched over to my wife and my two boys and then more guilt set in. It was not the special events, birthdays, the holidays that gave me a gut check but the moments when late at night my boys and my wife thought about me and I was not around to make them feel safe, or to just watch them sleeping from just outside their rooms. This is what weighed on me then, and sometimes it weighs on me still.

There are days and nights that I look through photos or read through this blog and I almost have to convince myself that I was in fact in a war zone, that I was gone for almost a year and that yes, I am not the same man that I was before I left. Was I ever really gone? Have I really come back? I miss my buddies. Marty, Dan Chen, Cunningham, Chacon, Chavez, Cubby, Woody and so many more. Guys that helped me keep it together. Guys that will be my compadres, mis carnales until the end of my days.

A couple of weeks ago, the city of El Paso decided to have a huge parade for all of the military personnel that had returned from Iraq and Afghanistan in 2007. I was not going to take part but my kids asked about it and then my command issued a “friendly” reminder that we should be a part of it. I am glad I did. It was a beautiful sun filled day. I showed up at the starting point in my desert cammies. This being an army town, 99.9% of the participants were Army and wearing those funky digital cammies. I walked up and down the long line of platoons and companies looking form my guys, all two of them. Those Army guys looked at me like I had worn the wrong uniform. But I kept looking. I went up to a captain, popped a salute and said, “Sir, I was ordered to show up but I am not sure where I am supposed to be.” He looked at my uniform and said, “Navy right?” (Genius.) “Yeah, you guys are in the back.” (Go figure.) I headed to the back of the line(s) and sure enough Maya and Alvarado were in place, holding our flag with the Seabee on it. The parade kicked off and we headed down Montana Ave. towards downtown. Immediately, I was struck by the number of people that lined the streets, I heard that more than 15,000 people showed up, ON A WEDNESDAY!!! I was amazed, humbled and overjoyed. I tried to not look around too much, but seeing the Red, White and Blue on flags, banners, clothing it was incredible. And the kids? Oh man, the kids. They were cheering, jumping around, smiling. And the Veterans: Gulf War,Vietnam, Korea and WWII saluting us? I chocked the tears back and then, through all of this sensory overload, I spot my dad, standing alone, taking pictures and then we made eye contact. That did it. That moment took me back to when I graduated boot camp. And that marked the second time that I had seen my dad cry. I looked at him and gave him the thumbs up. That was the third time that my dad cried in front of me.