…only so long as it is the home of the brave. 

   ~Elmer Davis

I saw a man today sitting on a bench. I assume he was waiting for the bus. He was dressed in an old set of desert cammies, boots without laces, black gloves, brown undershirt, and hair that had balded into a horseshoe pattern that hadn’t been cut in at least a month, probably two. As I looked him over, I made a joke about him “obviously” being army. As I watched him further, I saw his affliction. I saw his PTSD. Then I noticed the nametape on his left breast pocket read “U.S. Marines”. I was crushed.

I already felt like a piece of shit for making fun of him when I realized what was going on. I wanted to stop. I should have stopped. I should have at least asked him if he was okay, if he needed a ride to a shelter or if he had a home. Instead, I drove on. I had to get to a pharmacy. Emily, needed her antibiotics. I drove on. I cried.

While I was stopped at that light, I saw school kids, junior high or high school, I don’t know, stare at him. Some chuckled at his expense. One girl pointed and made some comment to her girlfriends. This man, who sacrificed his sanity for these people, is treated as a lech.

We got to the pharmacy. Emily went inside so we wouldn’t have to wake the baby just to stand in a line. I couldn’t get the image of him sitting on that bench out of my mind. I still can’t. I broke down in my car as a family of four was getting out of their SUV. The mother stared.

I feel guilty for leaving him. Does he have anybody? Does he have a home? I hope so. I should have asked. Two minutes.  What would it have hurt, to ask a question? I went back after we got the meds filled out. I had to check on him, but he was gone by that point. At least I went back, right? That has to count for something. Something is never enough, though, is it?

Regardless of how you feel about our military, these men have given themselves for you. We all know that the ones who have passed are the ones who are at peace. The ultimate sacrifice is not your life. It’s your love. It’s your mind. Sympathy is the least we can give for our brothers and sisters.