Till Then….

I am but a name now on a black granite Wall. I am to far away for my family to come and visit, to have them touch my name and feel the warmth of their love I have missed so dearly for so many years. My medals hang on their living room wall…the ribbons have long since faded and the metals have tarnished, yet I know they are proud of me. I hear my mother cry at night for me and it breaks my heart to see her in such pain. My younger brother does not talk about me much because he is afraid….afraid he will cry over his loss and others will view him as less than a man. My little sister acts so brave during the day, but at night when it is dark and she is alone, her tears for me fall. I try to tell them I am okay, for I feel no pain. There is no war here, no hate, and no sounds of guns or young soldiers crying for their moms with their last dying breath. We are all here, those who lost our lives in Vietnam. We have our arms and legs now that were blown off us by land mines and such, but we are not able to go anywhere. We have our eyes and we watch the little children as they approach the Wall. I see the little boy I never got to have or to take fishing with me. I see the little girl who I never got to hear call me daddy. I understand in war there must be causalities but it saddens my heart to know I had to be one of them. I wish I could feel the warmth of the sun one more time on my face. Yes, I am but a memory now and all I ask is that you rejoice the years you had me and not mourn the years I have been gone. We shall meet again someday, you and I. Till then keep me close in your heart.

By Ruth A. Lukkari In loving memory of Timothy G. Robinson

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