| Tears in the Darkness |
| In the dark wood in which we
were ensnared, our vision was impaired. The Apostle Paul said
that he saw through a glass darkly. We can relate. We were trying
to focus without much light, and it was tougher than a
woodpecker's beak. Our field of vision was, additionally, clouded
by obstruction. We were looking at life through a veil of
tears.
Jana experienced the tears of
great loss. No longer could she commune with the love of her
life. He was gone, and as a result, an important part of her was
gone. Questions hounded her to the depths of her soul. Was she a
widow, or wasn't she ? Did her child have a father, or was Karoni
fatherless ? Was Ron dead, or was he being tortured in captivity
? What was she going to do ? What could she do ? Jana died a
thousand deaths as she hoped one moment and despaired the
next.
Not even little Karoni could
avoid the shedding of tears of grief. As she grew older, she
became increasingly troubled by the government's inability to
resolve the fates of the missing. Since a faint flicker burns on
the candle of possibility, she holds fast to her conviction that
he may yet be alive.
Karoni is quite active in the
cause. She spends hours writing letters to Congressmen, Senators,
and Presidents. Her editorials have appeared in newspapers in
diverse Texas cities. She is active in the National League of
Families. She attends their annual meetings which are held in
Washington. She's journeyed to the Pentagon trying to feret out
the truth. She's lobbied to obtain classified documents. Her
tireless efforts provide a regimen of medicine for her soul, but
the teardrops of pain moisten her pretty face
nonetheless.
After what my folks have been
through, they have to believe in a literal hell. They have not
been strangers to the habit a good cry. Like the country song
says, "Lucky them. They were down to hurting once a day,
everyday, all day long." The tragedy took a physical toll on
them. The lines at the corners of their eyes became more
pronounced. They were etched there by worry and depression. The
part of Dad's hair that didn't turn gray turned out. Aging began
to be evident.
Peace of mind was foreign to
them. They believed Uncle Sam had abandoned some POWs in Vietnam.
They felt that their boy could be one of the forgotten ones left
behind. Thus, anxiety was a daily visitor at their house. Nothing
is worse than having your child die, unless it is to have a child
who is missing.
To commemorate the ultimate
sacrifice of 58,000 American heroes who fell in the fields,
jungles, and skies of Vietnam, a wall was constructed near the
Lincoln Memorial in our nation's capitol. Perhaps veteran groups
should build a monument for wives, children, and parents of the
fallen. They are no less heroic, and they have suffered
immeasurably. They, too, have paid the ultimate price.
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| Remembering,
Dreaming |
| Everything reminded me of him.
When an airplane flew overhead, it brought him to mind. When I
saw a Pontiac, no matter what model, Ron's face would flash
before me. When the news came on the radio or television, I
listened intently to see if any POW developments had been
forthcoming. Listening in class was difficult. I could think of
little else but him. I couldn't stomach the idea of him, who was
so full of life, being dead. On the other hand, if he was a
prisoner, how would he ever get back to life in these United
States ?
Sleep did not come easily. On
occasion when it did come, slumber provided a brief respite. At
such times as these, I would often dream a wonderful recurring
dream that seemed so real. We would be coming out of a movie
theatre, and he would be standing there with a radiant smile on
his face. "I'm back, and I'm o.k.", he would say. We would run to
him and latch our arms around his neck. Then he would smother us
with hugs.
The dream happened on countless
nights. This was a sweet dream. If only it had been reality. The
problem was the morning always came. Slowly, the exuberance would
fade as it would dawn on me, as I reached over to turn the alarm
off, that he wasn't coming back. I had only been dreaming, again.
Life was not a bowl of cherries. I, too, was seeing life through
a veil of tears.
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