We say “thank you for your service” a lot, but especially at this time of year. It’s printed on banners, spoken at ceremonies, posted on social media. And while I know it’s sincere, it just seems, and I’m trying to think of the exact right word here, insufficient.
I also get that there probably is no word that is sufficient, when you consider the magnitude of what many veterans face, especially ones deployed to war.
It’s Veterans Day as I write this, and my favorite veteran, my nephew Justin, happens to be at my house. Justin served one tour in Iraq, and every Veterans Day, the thing that won’t leave my mind was the few days in the spring of 2009 when we didn’t hear from him. It coincided with big news that week of heavy fighting and U.S. casualties.
Normally, one or another of us received an email from him almost every day, so when the messages stopped, the silence was deafening. I knew how worried and stressed out the family was, but it wasn’t until my sister finally heard from him that he was fine did I realize the extent to which we were all suffocating.
I can not even imagine, and I’m not even willing to try, what it’s like when the message that does come is not from your loved one, but from a chaplain.
I also cannot imagine, knowing now what was happening during those few days, what it was like for Justin and the rest of the men and women there.
“Thank you for your service” is so inadequate for what I actually feel. It’s the phrase we reach for because we don’t know how to say what we really mean, or at least that’s how it is for me.
What I feel is more than gratitude, more even than pride. What I feel, not just for my nephew, but for every single American who ever put on that uniform in service to the United States, is reverence, mixed with guilt. Reverence, because it’s the only word I can think of that expresses the deep, almost sacred feeling. Guilt, because I was never there with them.
It just so happens that the reason Justin is at my house today is because there is a man here looking to buy my brother’s van, which is handicap-equipped with a wheelchair ramp. It turns out the man is a caregiver for his wife, a disabled veteran.
All of this happening on Veterans Day is too much, but considering the day, maybe it’s exactly right. It’s a reminder that behind ever uniform is a story that’s still unfolding, and gratitude alone will never be enough to carry it.
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