We knew each other better than most of our families did. Things were discussed among us that none of us would dare share with anyone else who had not endured what we endured. We comforted people who had been displaced by Abu Saif, and Communist Guerillas. We heard their stories of horror as they held a daughter captive by knife or gun and demanded a "voluntary" donation to their cause. We saw the devastation together that terror wrought upon the lives and souls of other human beings. Stories that chilled us to the core then, and still do today.
We felt the warmth of their hugs when we scared the boogie men away, and we felt their graciousness when we were bought into their homes and fed with a feast they had gathered from among the villagers as a whole because no one family could ever afford a gala like we witnessed many times. We slept in the only bed in the house because the heartfelt gratitude of those we liberated would allow nothing more than the best they had, even if it was the worst we ever had.
We saw dictators displaced where freedoms were taken away. We saw hope spring forth in hearts that never thought they would see a life worth living again in their time. We saw freedoms that some had never dreamed of being laid at the feet of the oppressed and broken hearted. And with every tittle of laughter, every tear shed from relief, we knew what we had been born for. We had a purpose that many covet and never see. We were nothing more than neighborhood kids when we left the warmth of our homes and the culture we knew to fight a battle some us never understood when we walked on strange soil and fought for those who could not fight for themselves. We were heroes to these people who never saw a television or had more to eat than they could stand. We fought to save little girls from becoming prostitutes out of survival and to open a new and wonderful world to those who lived with only violence and death.
And some of us never knew at times if we wanted to return home or not, because there we were somebody. Important, appreciated, and doted upon as real men. We knew we would not be so when we returned home, we would only be those who did not belong anymore. We have lived with violent nightmares and battled with our purposes, but the one thing that brings us back is what we did. Not only for our nation, but also for our fellow man.
Your son Cindy, he fought with honor and dignity. He fought that you and others if they so chose could protest a sitting president near his own house. He fought to protect these values against a madman who paid terrorists and funded those who desired to take this lifestyle away from us all. He took the devil from his seat and saved countless lives that Saddam would have taken as he had in the past. He fought, and if he was like my friends, he fought well. And he was honored to do so. My bet is that he died filled with a purpose he never had and with a satisfaction of life few ever know. He saw the oppressed go free. He felt the warmth of their newfound life. He saw the sparkle of hope in their eyes as they gazed at him and cried.
He enlisted for this purpose and he died for this purpose. I am sure he would prefer to be honored as a hero than to be written up in the media as a poor helpless victim of a political entity.
I am sure he walked through the Pearly Gates and heard a voice say to him ‘Well done my good and faithful servant". Because what better love has a man than this, to give his life for another? And though you grieve, and America understands the pain and agony of a son lost, you are not alone, and through the history of this nation many mothers asked the same question. Why did their son die saving some black slaves? Why did their son die because of a war in Europe that did not concern us? Why did their son die in what their mothers considered a useless war? No war makes sense to a parent who lost their son, but at least wonder what that war meant to your son and all he stood for. He did the right thing Cindy, and if you could ask him now he would say the same thing.
He delivered the oppressed to freedom, he freed the prisoners, he brought faith and hope to those who had none. He comforted those who were hurting and he sacrificed his life to keep the freedoms you now exercise.
excerpt, Pete Fisher,
Cindy Sheehan, I May Have Your Answer
