The Remains Of My Life


Erick W. Miller

It’s truly a lonesome feeling to be surrounded by family and friends and still feel all alone. Emotions that exist in others just aren’t there for me. This condition has robbed me of happiness since 1970. What happened at that time that was so traumatic to cause this emptiness? A tiny piece of a small but lengthy war is the thief. The part that I played was not exclusive to me. I’m sure that other men experience this emptiness, that is, those who haven’t committed suicide as so many have. There is no hope for a storybook ending when such an important piece of humanity is missing.

I pretended my way to my third marriage and went to the family reunions like a see-through ghost. I keep trying but the missing piece was, unfortunately a “one of a kind” and there is no replacement part. Infantry is a tough bull to ride and walking point can kill your soul leaving only a tired body to finish the remainder of one’s life. Living with the possibility of death and killing day after day has left its mark on me. More than a few people, painfully family included, have told me that the mark shows.

I have often wondered what life would be like from a normal perspective, whatever that is. I dimly remember my childhood and teenage years, but it seems like that stuff happened to somebody else. The new me has been around much longer than the old me and that person just wont go away. I feel sorry for my children because they only got half of a Dad.

Erick W. Miller (Written circa 1998) )2003