Ch (11) Randomness

The Lucky One.Lucky.. haaa..

 Here i lie in jail alone.

I watched a film .. one like many ive seen.. but today i cried a lot.

I stood back from time to time.. aware of my ridiculous tears and was incredulous myself.. and thought how anyone else seeing me would shake thier heads in sad disdain.

I realised then,  that the the tears were for my regrets and omissions.. my opportunities forfeited..and my son.

So i watched the movie of marines doing thier killing and shooting in Iraq ,  and then as some of them were killed in the fray....I lived into it as i always do..
but i have become hardened to these vivid depictions of young men fighting for thier lives like i had done a few times.

How each one of us was supposed to work together with our battle mates even if it meant sacrificing yourself.

I did that once,  even without realising it.. where i ran .. like this movie man .. into the teeth of death itself.. but lived.. as my mates died.

No reason i could find could explain why i was still alive and so many of them were dead. 

My troop commander had chosen to place us where we were on the battle field and so many variables  came into play defining the path of my feet on that battlefield.

My feet .. that walked out of that firefight alive while so many right next to me fell dead.

The survivors guilt was the same then as described in all the movies... and with no councelling or treatment stayed writhing darkly in the depths of my mind..

 I learnt how to deal with it over the years and replayed it in sections and stored those like a dusty rack of old video tapes.. in a dusty cupboard. 

When i play any of those tapes .. the blank spots reignite and the sounds and smells come flooding back..

 I have come to realise that life and its courses for every one of us is defined by the thousands of possible variables that are in our every step every day.

So once again i watched the film actor enduring the agonies of loss.. guilt.. and ingrained traumatic damage.... just like i did. 

Just like i am still doing here every day.. Another battlefield.. different challenges.. different adversaries... and just as many different variables of luck...
or fate..?

He did same as me , and went home to explain to the families of his comrades now dead.. the last days.. hours .. and seconds of each he had seen..had watched die..

No tears for me anymore on this,  as i have replayed it in every way and grown thick calluses to inhibit that which i could not change then or now.

This time ... the tears i smeared miserably into my cheeks were not for me or my brave comrades..my devastated wife left destute on remnants of my past futile efforts.. or  my longsuffering mom or the hardships far worse than mine endured by many.

Torture.. starvation.. unimaginable cruelty.. warcrimes .. hatred..

No.. these tears were for my brave young son.

The film i watched today had him there.
Just like i knew him .. just  like he was with me when i last saw him.

The likenesses were uncanny and no matter how i tried to get a hold of myself.. i was taken by the reality of my own sight.
But today i cried not just for him as i watched that filmshow.
It was for us.. not because of what we had missed out.. but because of what could have been if i had stepped a pace to the left or right.. or death or greater blessing.