de doop derp

Really need to start writing again.

SPESS

So. Fuck.

Deviantart is the only place I can write this, because no one (except the closest of friends) actually knows me. Pretty lame, right?

Another one of the guys I served with just got killed in Iraq.

Fuck.

I manage a fucking retail store. And dudes are still dying. What the fuck am I doing?

This guy wasn't your run-of-the-mill Marine, either.

There is the falsely motivated, and the deeply motivated. There is the leaders you follow because you don't want to get yelled at, and the leaders you follow because you don't want to let them down. There is the leaders that yell to get their point across because they assume you are stupid, and there is the leaders that tell you what needs to be done, and expect you to get it done.

These truths are evident to the boot Marine. When I was a young, innocent 18/19 yo PFC/LCpl, Wojo was that guy. An NCO who put his money where is mouth was. Who actually believed in what he was doing. Not just a romantic, or an idealist, but a guy who believed, AND WAS MAKING IT A REALITY.

This is one of the guys that I tried to be like when I became a team leader, a squad leader, an NCO. This is one of those guys who is always a hero, a role model, in the back of your mind. That static image of standards that never slipped, discipline that was there even when no one was watching, unwavering surety in his abilities as a leader, and your abilities as a Marine, unless you failed and proved otherwise. But even then, he was that kind of Corporal that would take you aside, tell you man-to-man how to make it right, and that he believed in you, and you just needed to believe in yourself and try harder to succeed.

And now SSgt Wojo is gone.

Thanks, insurgency. You guys are a bunch of assholes.

HAHAHAHA AFFLICTION DAY OF RECKONING

advertising on DeviantArt? w.t.f.

lololololol

Fedor. My faith is in you.

The strongest man is nothing

without the woman!

I think when I heard, I felt relief.

It was probably the memories of you beating my mother, her sleeping with a knife under her pillow for so many years after you left, your threats to one day come back for your daughter, that made me react as such, in that one second.

I guess I thought it would be a lot different. In my mind, I envisioned her finding you...probably calling you on the phone first. Agreeing to meet somewhere, perhaps for lunch. I imagined my brothers and I would go as well, because we did not trust you, even after years and years. I imagined you would be mellowed by age, perhaps some regret showing through. I imagined you would be shocked that the four little boys you used to wallop, the ones that used to hide in the corn and cry helplessly while you beat their mother, would be so tall, worldly and hostile, grown men and certainly not soft, and you would feel physically intimidated that they looked so protective of their little sister. I imagined you would be uncomfortably aware of your past mistakes, and regret them intensely, maybe even shed a few tears in apology to your daughter who was too young to know how you were.

To my surprise, it will never be.

But after that one moment of shocked relief, I felt regret, guilt, and crestfallen. I am sad. I'm sad my little half-sister never got to meet her dad, after looking for him for so many years. I'm sad that a happy-go-lucky young lady has one less thing to be happy about. I'm sad that my mother is actually sad for you as well.

She said when they found you, dead in the cab of the pickup you lived in, you had nothing but 20 dollars and a picture of your daughter, my little sister, in your wallet.

To me, this means you never forgot her. This means you likely thought of her every single day, for nearly a decade and a half. To do that, would mean that you truly missed and loved your daughter.



Because of that, I forgive you.