Everybody has an opinion. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. But before you put your own opinion out there, please think about how others feel.
A few weeks ago, there was a viral video of a little boy at karate practice. He had been blindfolded, and his father who had just returned from overseas was his opponent, and when his blindfold was removed, he had a heartwarming reunion with his father.
I saw this tweet later on my timeline with a quote that read along the lines of "When your father returns from killing children your age in a foreign country" with a slew of emoji's mocking the happiness that the child had felt in that moment.
You can oppose the war overseas. But please, do not try and take away this moment of happiness away from the children who were separated from their parents for years at a time.
I've experienced that feeling three times in my life, and I can still feel the chills I felt when I was finally able to hug my father for the first time after his tours. Whether I was five, ten or eighteen, I still felt the same rush of emotions.
My father left for the first time when I was four. I didn't understand war. I didn't understand what was happening overseas. But when I saw him for the first time when he returned, I remember sobbing in the airport and clasping my tiny five-year-old arms around my Dad's neck as hard as possible. I never wanted to lose him in that way again.
My Dad left again when I was nine, and returned when I was ten. The four hour drive to see my Dad for the first time after his tour felt longer than his tour itself. At this point, I was beginning to educate myself on war. I still didn't understand it, but there was one thing I did understand- and that was how fast my legs moved as a saw my Dad standing about fifty feet from me. I don't think I have ever run as fast as I did at that moment.
But when I was seventeen, I understood what war was. I understood that there are aspects of war that are grueling and hard to come to terms with. I still understand that. I also understood, though, that my father's job had absolutely nothing to do with these horrible aspects. My Dad was a mechanic for the Army. He had not killed anyone. My father was overseas with the pure intentions of protecting the people that inhabit the United States. When he surprised me at the airport once again, I remember having to wipe loads of mascara off my stained cheeks.
These moments are extremely important and sentimental for the children who did not choose to have their parents leave for long periods of time. The amount of loneliness and sadness that builds up over a deployment is ended within a second. Once you have your arms wrapped around your loved one, everything seems to instantly get better.
So please, no matter how much you disagree with the United States involvement overseas, please remember that not every soldier commits the horrible acts that are plastered in the media. My dad never harmed a soul. My father fought to protect you. My father sacrificed many milestones in my siblings and my own lives to make sure that you could enjoy the freedoms granted to you by the Constitution. He's missed out on half of my life to protect yours. My mother went so long without the embrace of her husband for you to be free. Please, just let us have this moment of pure bliss at our reunion. Not everything has to be political.
