Heroes’ Legacy Scholarship

My father was a soldier. I only know that because he never came home. He died in the line of duty when I was just a year old, too young to remember him, too old now to forget what his absence has shaped in me. Every year since, I’ve left flowers at his memorial. I’d stand there quietly, not really sure what to say. I think part of me hoped I'd feel him if I stood still enough. Some years, I brought wildflowers from the side of the road. Other years, I spent an hour picking the perfect bouquet. It never felt like enough. I didn’t know what his favorite color was or what kind of flowers he would have liked. But I brought them anyway. That was the only kind of conversation we had: me placing something beautiful on stone, hoping it said what I couldn’t. I asked his friends what he was like. One told me he drank Pepsi religiously. I pretended to like it for years. Someone mentioned that he liked spicy food, so I added hot pepper to my meals, which did not last long. Another said he was calm under pressure, so I tried to be that too. Measured, quiet, steady. I didn’t just want to know him. I wanted to resemble him. Even now, my first question to anyone in uniform is always the same: Did you know my dad? It doesn’t matter if they are Army, Navy, or Marines. I always ask. Most of the time, they don’t. But every now and then, someone pauses. Someone squints at my last name or says they were deployed around the same time. My heart starts racing, hoping they’ll say something. Anything that brings me closer to him. Sometimes people talk about their military parents, the stories they’ve heard, and the lessons they were taught. I go home and open the drawer where we keep his medals and pendants, and I look at them like proof he was real. Sometimes I wonder what he would think of me now. Would we have the same sense of humor? Would he have taught me how to drive or walked me to school on the first day? It’s strange to miss someone you don’t remember. Stranger, maybe, to feel shaped by them anyway. I’ve spent my whole life trying to get to know someone I never got the chance to meet. And no matter how many questions I ask, it never feels like enough. I never got a first memory of him. Just a flag, and a lot of questions no one could answer. His service gave others freedom. It left me with stories, medals, and a thousand things I’ll never get to ask. I’m proud of his service. But some days, I’d trade every medal just to have known him.

My dad served our great country for twenty-five years. When he was seventeen years old he joined the Marines and served for seven years. Then he served the rest of his time in the Air National Guard. He comes from a long line of service members and has had a family member serve in every conflict since World War II. I guess you could say it was in his blood. But he was also taught that it was a priority, and we all owe this country something for the opportunities and freedoms we are blessed with. I was raised with those same lessons. My dad was out of the Marines before I was born but served in the Guard from the time I was born. While we didn't have to move around a lot I do remember sending my dad off on deployments. It was always so hard to say goodbye and I would always have stomach aches until he came back home. We would go to the base and watch for the big KC-135 that would bring him home. After a lot of hugs and tears, we would then excitedly see what he brought home for us. He didn't talk a lot about his deployments but we always had a flag flying in our front yard and we always knew the pride and honor my dad felt with being a part of keeping us free. My dad suffered some physical and mental issues due to his service. He has a good amount of hearing loss and has had different health issues attributed to his service. Unfortunately, he also has some mental and substance abuse issues. Watching him and my mom trying to deal with those issues has been a challenge. I know he wouldn't change his time in the military, but I wish he could have had a better way to deal with the demons that came home with him. I have chosen to pursue a career in psychology and hope to be able to help veterans deal with the challenges they face after serving. I know PTSD is all too common among veterans and so is substance abuse and homelessness. Nobody deserves help, assistance, and understanding more than those who willingly choose to serve our country and preserve our freedoms. It breaks my heart to see this group of heroes ignored and cast aside all too often. We need to get back to honoring these men and women and giving them priority. I hope that with my choice to become a psychologist, I will be able to offer that support.