Army veteran vows to keep living after one brother was killed in the Iraq War and another committed suicide after returning with PTSD and injuries.
Writing Seminar for Gold Star Families
Posted inReflections
My Dad Should Have Lived a Long and Joyful Life. His Love Was Meant to Fill This World.
My dad knew two things. He wanted to serve this country and wouldn’t live until his 40th birthday. His prophecies came true.
Posted inReflections
The Shoulders I Stood on Were Gone. How Little I Knew of the Journey Before Me.
Air Force Maj. Troy Gilbert was a hero who died when his F-16 crashed protecting U.S. troops in Iraq. But to the 9-year-old son he left behind, he was Dad.
Posted inWriting Seminar for Gold Star Families
2023 War Horse Seminar Guides Gold Star Families in Healing Through Storytelling
Since 2017, The War Horse has hosted writing seminars for veterans and military families who have written stories about mental health, tragedy, and triumph.
Posted inReflections
The Cadence of the 21 Gunshots Pierced My Ears. I Braced Myself for Each One.
My dad and I had an ideal father-daughter relationship. He was my hero, and I was Daddy’s little girl. I didn’t fear him, but I feared disappointing him.
Posted inReflections
I Can’t Afford the Grace of Failure. I’m a Survivor.
The point is to push your boundaries not within the limits of survival but until turbulent failure. This strange new concept sends me on a spiral.
Posted inReflections
You Cannot Go Back, and It Never Really Gets Better. Sometimes the Truth Is Cruel.
The “better” you’re searching for is the way you once were before you wound up bloody on the floor. That’s gone now.
Posted inReflections
Twenty Minutes – My Chest Fills With Burning Coals. But I Keep Breathing.
I’m surrounded by grief, love, laughter, joy, sorrow, and devastation, but it belongs to them. None of it belongs to me. My ache is my own.
Posted inReflections
‘Embrace the Suck’–Life as a Gold Star Child is a Race With No Finish Line
I can’t accept that he’s a few feet away from me, waiting to join a sea of white stones and perfectly cut green grass. I don’t want to walk away.
