Today, we buried a Navy veteran. A man who spent his life serving his country in both the Navy, 4 years, and the Kentucky Air National Guard, 24 years. A man I didn't know very well, and only met a few times.

This Navy veteran was buried with full military honors today. I attended his funeral. Throught his funeral I was fine. As a catholic man, he received a catholic funeral ceremony. Throughout that ceremony I was respectful, and prayed in my own way for the blessing he had given the family, and myself as I am not related in any way, throughout his life. He was an amazing, caring, and hilarious man but above all he was a veteran, and that's where we connected.

While still at the church, I forgot this great man. When his casket, covered in a blessed white cloth, was removed from the sanctuary the cloth was replaced with an American flag. Once the flag was draped over the casket, I forgot who was inside. I forgot who was around me. I forgot which family was mourning the loss of this man. I saw the body, and faces of other men. I saw other wives and children. I saw different mothers in the faces of this congregation. I saw the families of men who died both during and after my war. And for that I feel guilt.

At the gravesite, under our flag, I didn't see the casket of a Navy veteran. I saw the casket of a decorated soldier who took his own life after the war. I saw the body of a soldier who helped me survive in combat. Even though a Navy Honor Guard presided over the ceremony, I saw nothing but Army personnel and his young wife receiving that folded flag. And when taps played I cried. I cried like a girl. I tried so hard to stand at attention, and pay the proper respects to our flag, this family, and that somber song played on a trumpet. But I couldn't.

When the ceremony was finished and the congregation dismissed, I sat in my car and I cried. At the closest parking lot to the cemetery I sat in my car and bawled like a baby. I cried for the loss of my brothers. I cried for the poor souls who where buried in flag draped coffins. I cried for myself who came home alive and unscathed. I cried for those who died fighting, and for those who died to avenge them. I cried for those who died at home when their war was already over. I cried for the men I laid to rest who lost their battles with the demons of war.

As I sit at home, half drunk, I think of these men and cannot help but to cry again. As I look at my daughter, I cannot help but feel guilty for being able to see her, when better men died before seeing their children. As I change her diaper I cannot help but feel guilty for these better men, who will never know what it is like to fight with an infant who needs a clean diaper. These men I carry with me every day, but today it seems more at the front of my mind. These men rest on my conscience heavier today.

As I see the things around me I cannot help but feel guilt. And shame. And a sense of longing. I feel guilty because I can see and feel these wonderous things around me. I have the opportunity to watch my child grow. They do not. I feel shame in my survival, that I have reached this point and made it past the war. They did not. I long to be back at the place we all were, when my brothers were alive and things were okay again. I long for the times when everyone was alive.

I long for the times when I didn't feel guilty about being alive. I long for the times when I didn't want to give up. I long for the times when I was okay.

Now I sit suffocated with guilt and pain and sorrow for these men. For these awful things. I carry their burden. I carry these men as if I still carry a rucksack.

The rucksack and the rifle have been returned long ago. The ammunition and gear have been put away. No longer do I bear the weight of the M240 or the 1,000 rounds I carried with it. Now my weight is heavier. Now my mental rucksack is filled with the weight of these men. I carry their lives as I once carried ammunition, in pouches and pockets. I carry their deaths as I once carried the machine gun. The heavy weight 26 pound necklace I gladly took over anyone else, is now replaced with a heavier burden.

The Alpha Team, who followed behind me after I left the gun, still walk in my footsteps. Though now it isnt the same men I led into firefights as a team leader. Now those men are replaced with the ones I lost. Now I walk point once again. Now my rifleman is a Private First Class we lost in Wazzari. Now my grenadier is a Corporal we lost on IED Alley. Now my Automatic Rifleman is a Sergeant I buried long after our tours were up.

These men haunt me. These men, who were among the bravest men I've ever seen, are who I now feel guilty for.

A buddy from High school passed away this morning. I am not 100% sure on the details. From what I heard he was doing training for the OKC Police Department yesterday and he passed out. They revived him and took him to the hospital. They took him off life support this morning and he passed away. I will update when I have more information.

EDIT: http://www.krmg.com/news/news/local/jenks-police-officer-dies-while-undergoing-physica/nPgNZ/

Hey guys, I think this /r is amazing. I was just thinking though that if possible this should not involve karma in anyway, but instead just a way to remember The Fallen

Flag suspended in front of memorial

I saw Avengers last night and all I could think about when I saw "The Hulk" was how you would run around like a big ox about to break everything when we would come back drunk from liberty. Miss you man