Another day came and went. Even after three years out of Vietnam, 
I couldn't help but continue to feel numb to everything around me. My spouse, my son, my work, my friends...everything. I felt as if the war had robbed me of my ability to feel. Or love.
simply couldn't move on. 'How can these people actually expect me to live a normal life?,' I asked myself. As time went by, I gave up the idea of moving on.
I couldn't help but continue to feel numb to everything around me. My spouse, my son, my work, my friends...everything. I felt as if the war had robbed me of my ability to feel. Or love.My wife tried her best to avoid turning her frustration with me into anger but I never blamed her. As hard and embarrassing as it is to say, I didn't care whether or not she stopped loving me. Hell, I wouldn't love myself either. The man I was prior to Vietnam was left there among the bodies.
I 
simply couldn't move on. 'How can these people actually expect me to live a normal life?,' I asked myself. As time went by, I gave up the idea of moving on.One night on the couch, with my feet up and crossed on the coffee table in front of me, I reached for the remote with my right hand. Next to it I found a letter addressed "Dad." Nonchalantly, I ripped the seal and slipped out the looseleaf paper folded inside. My welling eyes slowly savored each sentence my 18 year old son had scratched in his boyish handwriting. The pain I had for so long pushed away
began to suffocate me as I reluctantly read on. For the first time in three years: I felt something.
began to suffocate me as I reluctantly read on. For the first time in three years: I felt something. "Dad,
I know that the past couple of years have not been easy in this household. Mom and I don't make it any better for you and I want to apologize. When I fought you, I wanted your attention. When I told you I hated you, I wanted you to tell me you loved me. I am not a man until I can forgive myself for ruining an already destroyed relationship. I hope you understand that I never wanted to fight you. I never wanted to hate you. The anger inside of me came from a fatherless son. You came home from Vietnam as a shell of the funny guy you once were. I will never understand what happened. The things you saw, the friends you lost, and the suffering you endured are an enormous part of you life. I get that I'll never know your life as a soldier. The time you were gone wasn't easy for mom or me either. She cried every night over your picture. The lonliness I saw in her eyes broke my heart. The odd part is that she never was bitter towards you until you came home. Her friends lost husbands in Vietnam but she lost hers in her own home. The man who sits on the couch all day and won't touch her is a stranger to both her and me. Why couldn't we play baseball like the other neighborhood kids? Why couldn't you cook the one-of-a-kind meatballs for us in your old kitchen? Why do I forget the sound of your hearty laugh? These questions haunted me until today; I realize now how unfair it is to blame you. Mom has not given up on you yet, Dad. She and I will do anything we can to pry open your arms and emrace us with the warmth you once did years ago.
I know that the past couple of years have not been easy in this household. Mom and I don't make it any better for you and I want to apologize. When I fought you, I wanted your attention. When I told you I hated you, I wanted you to tell me you loved me. I am not a man until I can forgive myself for ruining an already destroyed relationship. I hope you understand that I never wanted to fight you. I never wanted to hate you. The anger inside of me came from a fatherless son. You came home from Vietnam as a shell of the funny guy you once were. I will never understand what happened. The things you saw, the friends you lost, and the suffering you endured are an enormous part of you life. I get that I'll never know your life as a soldier. The time you were gone wasn't easy for mom or me either. She cried every night over your picture. The lonliness I saw in her eyes broke my heart. The odd part is that she never was bitter towards you until you came home. Her friends lost husbands in Vietnam but she lost hers in her own home. The man who sits on the couch all day and won't touch her is a stranger to both her and me. Why couldn't we play baseball like the other neighborhood kids? Why couldn't you cook the one-of-a-kind meatballs for us in your old kitchen? Why do I forget the sound of your hearty laugh? These questions haunted me until today; I realize now how unfair it is to blame you. Mom has not given up on you yet, Dad. She and I will do anything we can to pry open your arms and emrace us with the warmth you once did years ago.
Your wife and son miss you. And are willing to take as much time as you need to find yourself and feel comfortable with us again. We aren't asking you to pretend like you are blind to the pain you felt at War, but we are asking you to try to allow the love we feel for you to tip the scale.
I love you Dad and in my eyes you always will be an amazing father."
I set down the letter with my weak, trembling grip and curled up on the dirty plaid couch. I had never been a glass-half-full-kind of man, especially after seeing the sights I did in Nam. Yet, for the first time, I felt lucky. Unlike my buddies who died for their country three years ago, I could kiss my son and wife. Their patient hearts took hold of mine and from that day forward I never let myself forget it. The glass should always be half-full and the heart should never stay numb to love.
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