by Andie Anderson

Created on: November 12, 2008   Last Updated: January 28, 2009

Courage even with Fear

He never cried
about the war
or the past
or what happened

He only spoke of the good
and the comraderie
and the daily life

My brother and I always
asked about stories
of the past.

Years later my dad had an episode
he was dreaming that he was
killing a Japanese soldier
My mother woke him up
in fear
My father was stabbing the bed
with an imaginary bayonet

We have a Japanese saki bottle
that survived the bomb blast
my brother has it
somewhere
it's a small reminder
of the past
still intact and beautiful,
fragile like life.

My father always hated Spam
after the war
it reminded him of
monotony,
of lonliness,
of fear.
He had fear of closed in places
of caverns, of heights, of the dark

My father said he never wanted
to be buried because the fear
was
so intense, even
when he died at
seventy five of heart disease,
he
feared the dark.

What is war, does it answer any
questions, does it resolve issues
ever, or does it follow
us into the
years, thoughts still lingering,
where God and fear
are still looming.

We praise those who have walked this
road of fear and lonliness
and we know
where they have been
and where they
are going, but without these soldiers,
we would all be in fear
of tomorrow,
they have saved us today.

My father never held prejudice even
from his past, he loved all people in
spite of the war,
there was no hate,
only love for his fellow man.
He
maybe hated himself
for the things
he did, but he never complained
Ever.
He was a saint in my book.

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