On Detachment

Despite his emotional and spiritual scar tissue – or perhaps because of it, my son volunteered to return to the war zone – his fourth deployment. The key word here is volunteered … with less than a year on his enlistment, he did not need to return.

Life here in the States was becoming increasingly difficult – his story to tell – but as a witness I need to speak my feelings.  Is this the same son who, after his first deployment said, “Never again!;” the same son who used to smile and laugh, and who now is nearly bereft of these simple abilities?

He leaves at home his sweetheart, who has borne the brunt of his “shellshockedness.”  “It’s for the best, ma,” he assures me.

I cannot cry, I cannot change a thing.  And while I completely disagree, I am not him.  I know enough to know we all have a path to walk down.  He has chosen a mighty difficult one – as have many of his generation.  He is not alone.  Yet, I do not gain comfort in that; in this moment, the “bigger picture” is not working for me.

Where is my spiritual fortitude?  My old friends – spirit guides and helpers that have seen me through so much so many times before – are never far.  I have shut them out a bit on this one to be with my pain.  Despite the feeling that I am floundering alone in the sea, this is not about me.  Each day, the compassion of Spirit draws closer.  Walking in nature, my spiritual practice and work with others, and the support of family and friends provide the healing to remember  I am whole – just forgot that for a brief moment.

I pray that underneath all that has transpired and is yet to come, my son reconnects with his wholeness, and one day his smile and laughter return.  I turn his care and welfare over to God, for the highest good.

Advertisement