The Ground Truth

I just came home from one of the more intense evenings of my life. It was a benefit for my daughter, who is an Iraqi war veteran. Some of you already know this story, others may be new to it. For brevity's sake, this was a fund raiser put together by the art community for my daughter who has stomach cancer, and a veteran of this war who has been sick since she came home. I won't go into details, perhaps that is best left to a book or to some higher purpose than this blog.

We raised almost 2,000.00 at the event, half of which went to Megan, the other have to the IVAW (see link and info below). I knew half the audience. The love and support of the community was overwhelming. The movie shown was a documentary - The Ground Truth, which should be shown in every high school, to every American. It depicts the horror of our current war, and the physical and mental illnesses of many of the returning veterans, and how they are neglected by the very government they pledged their life to. As hard as it was for me to see it, it was even harder for my daughter. Boot camp, promises, dead bodies of comrades and Iraquis alike. Despair, suicide, anger, sickness. I could barely watch it and I held my daugter's hand as she kneaded and crushed the plastic cup she clutched. One of my girlfriends came and sat next to me and held my other hand as it took everything that I had to keep myself composed.

The speaker was one of the young men who starred in the documentary, as well as a member of the IVAW, Iraq Veterans Against the War. He was a well spoken, young man who was so troubled. My heart went out to him, and one of his comments hit me so hard that I felt the life get sucked out for a brief moment..that unless you have been in a war and in the military, there is no way you can understand what happened. As a mother I have kissed her bruised knees, soothed a wounded heart, held her hand after an auto accident with glass sticking out of her face and throat, necessitating 250 stitches. But I cannot help her heal from something I will never understand.

I feel helpless, powerless. I have to have hope that this young man and his organization can educate and make a huge difference in other's lives. I felt the pain for my daughter and countless others. There was hope in the love that poured from those who have known me for years..or for just a few months. I knew that the support net would not let Megan or I fall.......

It is time to go to bed. I am drained, sad, and elated. I did not join the group that went out for drinks and dinner. Instead, I came home to cry on my keyboard, take a deep breath, and be thankful.

Patti