One of my mom's marriages was to a much older man that was a very young soldier in WW2. He had bad PTSD but it was not labeled that, even though his PTSD put the people around him in grave danger. He visited and took care of older veterans at no small sacrifice and despite really struggling with his own issues. He died by suicide and it was ... bad, very bad.
There are not many people my age that had a dad that was a WW2 vet and have so many stories to tell about that.
Yes, most of them are gone now. He was a dangerous and harsh man, but ... I also remember his vulnerable side and his loyalty and sacrifices to his elders. He also was the man that financially supported me for a few years, and I am grateful for the food and shelter that he provided for me. He is the man that allowed me to sometimes meet people that I never would have met otherwise, and that are part of who I am today.
May he rest in peace. And all his friends, even the one that whipped me across the back with a branch. Life is complicated. They knew that. I partially learned that from them.
