Irony and the Wounded Warrior

Many who have been following my blog for years have heard me talk about my uncle Mike. He was the first exposure I ever had to PTSD. While in the service he developed PTSD and subsequently a drinking problem to cope with his symptoms. It became out of control and he was given the choice to be kicked out or retire early with 18 years service.  Substance abuse is very common and misguided way of coping with the trauma.

When he separated he came back home to live with us. As you may remember my grandma gave us very specific rules for waking him up, never startling him from behind etc. Again, we were little so I didn't understand I just did as my grandma told because...she was little but she WAS the boss.

I became very close to my uncle. I often asked about his son. He was never forthcoming. We were close in age and I had never met him. I only remember photos of him my grandma showed me. One specifically of him on a horse. I remember her telling me that was taken in New Mexico. I knew his name Barry Michael.

My uncle died when I was 20. 2001. Ironically, he'd quit his bottle of Jack a day habit cold turkey and died from a heart attack. Withdrawl. It was then that I became committed to finding my cousin. I had no where to start. My grandma mentioned he might have been adopted by his step father. This made it nearly impossible to find him. I just wanted him to have the opportunity to have closure at his father's service if he wanted. I wanted him to have the power of choice. I didn't find him.  It was something that hurt for years. I gave my uncles Eulogy. At just 20. My cousin would never get to know the man I knew. He was strong, he was troubled but he loved us. He had great regrets about not having contact with his son. I think that's why he took such joy and pride in my siblings and myself.

The Internet age came and still I could not find him. It was like he didn't exist. Years I searched. You could Google anything why could I not locate him?

After my husband's death in 2013, I realized my family is slowly dying. Both grandparents gone, all but two Uncles and my mom left. I have three cousins I have not had contact with since I was a small child. I needed to reach out to them and let them know we exist. Let them know there are people who think of them often, who share the same blood and want to be a part of their lives if they want it.  To at least give them the choice. Before it's too late.

I happened to speak to my late uncle Walters wife a few weeks ago and I asked her if she had any leads on how I might find him. She gave me the info that led me FINALLY to him. She knew the last name of the man my aunt married and my cousin took. I found my aunt. I found her email. Sadly...it was posted on her husband's funeral page. That  brought up all the emotion from my own husbands death. I sat there and cried for both of us. He too was a Marine.

I googled my cousin using the name I now had confirmation he used. The first thing that popped up was a battle photo. He was wearing the all too familiar Marine Corps cammies being carried off the battle field in Iraq. My heart sank. How could this possibly be? Is he alive? Is he okay? Please let him be okay. Our family has suffered so much already.

I immediately emailed his mom. Just praying she would have the heart to reply. I am the niece of the man who abandoned her baby afterall. She had no obligation to even read it but thank you God, she did. SHE REPLIED. HE WAS OKAY. I was actually out of town when I got the reply. I held back the tears. I told her I saw a photo of him injured and I just needed to know.

She went on to tell me that Wounded Warrior Project actually bought the rights to that photo and he is now the emblem...the logo of WWP. The irony. All the work I've done with the wounded, the at risk. All my advocacy with vets since Mike died and  the decade of searching for him, my own cousin was on the logo I'd been looking at daily.  What are the odds?

It felt a bit divine. I'm the voice of the wounded and he's the image. Not knowing each other our whole lives but still being part of the same movement.

I have since sent him a message introducing myself and letting him know how much we have in common. He has yet to reply but I have given him the choice. I feel good just knowing I've reached out and he knows we love him. We are here when/if he wants to.

Barry, I know you may never forgive your father and your dad is the man who raised you. I have the same feeling toward my biological father. I don't want to bring up any old pain. I only want you to know that I've been searching for you for 14 years and I am so glad to know you are ok. I'm a Marines widow and I understand your sacrifice and thank you for your service. I'm here whenever you are ready. We are link genetically but now I know it is so much bigger than that. I am proud of the man you became.

Knowing that in my generation, in my own family two died as a result of the Iraq war and one was wounded is heavy.  It's so overwhelming. I don't know if I should focus more on the huge sacrifice or knowing I found a missing part of my life's puzzle. I think the positive side. If he never wants to talk to me, I know. He knows. There is peace in that.

Semper Fi, Barry.