The forgotten...

Why? That is the question I ask myself each time I see or hear news related to the war. My heart aches at the thought of how many soldiers and civilians are killed or maimed as a result of such actions. This war hits too close to home for me at times. Earlier this week, I had a dream about a friend of mine that joined the Air Force about 6 months after graduating from high school. He was my best friend. I remember when I started at Cal, I had a hard time adjusting, but he stuck with me through thick and thin. This is how cool this guy was... I would have to go to these really late study groups on campus (often times ending at 11:00 or 11:30pm). Considering that the campus and nearby parts aren't very safe, it was cool to have a walking buddy to kind of have my back. My friend would come and sit through 4-6 hour study groups, just to make sure I got across campus safely. We both couldn't drive at the time, so we would wait on Telegraph for my mom to pick us up. This may seem like a small action, but I don't know very many people right now that would do this. And this wasn't a one time occurrence, I mean this guy would call and check up on me to see how things were; if I had a study group, what time and where; what time should he be at my house; and so forth. It broke my heart when he told me he was joining the Air Force. The selfish part of me was saying, "Man, are you crazy! You can't do that!" But then I thought, what other option did he have? He was the only male in his house, with his mom and sister being single parents. They needed help making ends meet, and taking JC classes and doing odd jobs weren't going to help pay the bills. I was so pissed because this guy was soooo smart! I mean he graduated with honors, but no scholarships or colleges looked his way. How shitty is that? So off to Wyoming for basic training. We would send post cards to one another, care packages from the Bay and whatnot. After awhile, these stopped. Me busy with school and life, him busy with war and life. At the beginning of last year, he made a surprise visit at my house. It had been nearly 6 years. Given that this length of time, many people tend to change and whatnot, but this was different. No joke cracking, no catch up stories. How could I comfortably have him recount his missions in Afghanistan and Iraq? How could I bring myself to make "small talk" that way? This meeting felt awkward. Before he left, he gave me his address. I really need to write him now, because my dream about him is causing me to worry. I dreamt that I visited him in Wyoming, and that he was home and safe. And that he was showing me pictures of his wife and daughter. This dream felt so real. I pray that he is safe and well. I pray for all the people that are affected by this madness. In the articles I have been reading lately, they talk about how many people are suffering not only severe physical injuries, but there are high amounts of neurological injuries as well. And what do they have to come home too? How can these families deal with the loss of their child, sibling, parent, or friend? Or how do they help them learn how to live again? I think that it is important for us to remember these people, and count our blessings. We need to actively remind them that they are not forgotten.