Every October I Let My Sons Go to War

October developed a deeper meaning for me over the years. It’s been the time in my family for deployment goodbyes—usually phrased as “See you later. I love you forever.”

These were goodbyes holding the urgency that only comes with sending your loved one into harm’s way. Sending them to the unknown. The only sureness I had then came from knowing it would be a place where others wanted to end my child’s life.

In my life, there was a painful irony in having two sons, 14 years apart in age, who both made the decision to serve our country. This age difference meant one son was just getting ready for kindergarten when my other son was graduating from basic training at Ft. Benning, GA. So he ended up in BCT when 9/11 happened. It was… a lot.

And when my first son deployed to Mosul, Iraq, in October 2004, my youngest son was just starting 1st grade. And my first son was stop-lossed for this deployment one month before his discharge. More irony.

When my youngest son enlisted at age 17, then graduated from BCT and AIT at 18, he was deployed in 2017 to Kuwait, then Syria.

Between the 2004 and the 2017 deployments, my oldest managed two more deployments. Also? A lot. Both my sons were combat arms—one 11B Infantry and the other 68W Combat Medic.

When the photos for many of these events pop up on my “memories” on social media sites each year, it immediately brings back how consumed I was with the oh-so-complex feelings that went with them every time. It also brings back the shock at seeing the difference in their ages and remembering how things played out for our family. These pictures are the evidence of this irony and experience. Complex. Yes. The mix of immense pride, unbearable anxiety, and anticipatory grief watching them go. The nightmare of my totally helpless feeling, realizing I had no control over any of it. Instead? I could only wait. Endless hours of relentless waiting.

These remain some of the most vivid and emotional memories of my whole lifetime. They will resurface every October. I recognize these memories will always carry the emotional burden of letting go of your child in ways that often feel unbearable.

There is so much meaning in loving your children, from birth to adulthood. And then, witnessing the next generations form as my sons’ lives continue the same cycle. Just look at these memories. jeez.

_____________________________

Shelly Harlow is the mother of two US Army veterans. She has worked for the last 20 years in the mental health field with those who have seen and endured more than most humans should ever have to and believes firmly that we are our own most powerful healers. Her own background and history are the foundation for her work with others and for her writing. Her hard-headedness has taken her further than any degree ever has. She remains a cynical optimist whose interest in humans has never faltered, knowing how flawed and amazing we all are.

Shelly can be reached at: Calm After the Storm- Trauma Coaching by Shelly Harlow

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.