Mar
11
Filed Under Aging, American Patriotism, Combat PTSD, Dog is God, Dogs, Happiness, Healing, Military, Pets, PTSD, Service Dogs, TBI & PTSD, Tears of a Warrior, Tribute, Veterans, War, War Dogs, Wounded Warriors | Comments Off on Best Friends
Guest Blog by John DiCiacco
I dedicate my short story to all the Men and Women that came home from
war and discovered that the War and all its tragic memories came home
with them.
Did you ever wonder why God spelled backwards is Dog. I used to ponder
that thought a great deal, that is until I met my first Service Dog
Wyatt. Named him after Wyatt Earp. Wyatt was not a Registered Service
Dog you see and he didn’t go to School and get a Degree to be a Service
Dog. To me, though, Wyatt was much more than a Service Dog. He was my
Savior, my Salvation and he was given to me by God.
Wyatt came into my Life about Sixteen Years ago and until his death at
only Eleven he remained a Faithful Companion and Confident. As a
Vietnam Veteran living with PTS, Wyatt was my Soul Mate, so when he
crossed over, a part of me had died as well. Worse yet, many of the
emotions I felt when I came home in February 1970 was suddenly staring
me in the face. Guilt, abandonment, distrust and yes, even anger. I
threatened to crawl into the bottle again, that is until Wyatt showed up
in a vision and I remembered how good my life was with Wyatt Dog and
God.
I now have another service dog that ditched school altogether and
became home schooled just like his older brother, Wyatt. His name is
Mato, which means “Bear” in the Lakota Indian Language. The “Bear” has
recently turned five and yes, Mato has taken up the legacy of what Wyatt
had meant to me in the past and together we are making our own memories.
Did I mention that both Wyatt and Mato are labs and both of them are
black.
Life is good with God and Dog.
The following words come from a short tune I heard a while back and it
is dedicated to dogs.
“You are my Buddy, my Pal and my Friend, so wherever you go I just want
you to know you are my Buddy, my Pal and my Friend.”
In memory of another God/Dog, my beautiful nephew, Bailey. Bailey
crossed over this February and Bailey was the proud service dog to his
Buddy, Pal and fFriend, Tony. By the way, Bailey was also a black lab.
One of Gods Great Gifts.
God Bless You and God Bless America.
Jan
5
-by Tony & Janet Seahorn
Black Forest Chase: April 23, 1999 – January 4, 2013
Dear Readers, today is an incredible hard day for us. It is a day of celebration, gratitude, patience, letting go, and joy. Today our black lab Chase made his final retrieve. We will miss him dearly. He was our special Wonder Dog and his spirit will remain with us. He loved to fish and bird hunt and guide the raft on its journey downstream. His companionship and love was unconditional and he will never be forgotten. Chase has been our guardian angel calming Tony as he battled with the demons of PTSD. We’ll miss his wonderful presence as we explore new waters and return to familiar haunts. Chase, we know you’ll be happy flushing birds & brookies in the great beyond.
Peace old buddy.
Many will walk in and out of your life, but only a true friend will leave paw prints on your heart. ~Anonymous
My brother, John, sent us this poem earlier this week. I know it will offer us comfort, but for now we must travel the Road of Tears.
In Memory Of A Beloved Friend
Skidboot:
Born in 1992 and passed on in 2007
Touch me with your voice as a puppy young and new,
And let me know my presence is what is pleasing you.
Touch me with your Spirit, for God sent me here to you,
To teach you of that precious bond known only by the choicest few.
Touch me with your hands as I grow tall and strong,
I need you as my mentor throughout my whole life long.
Touch me with your lips, and brush them softly on my brow,
Please kiss away the fears that I am feeling now.
Touch me with your eyes as I become full grown,
To validate unspoken love that we have always known.
Touch me with your heart as our bond keeps growing stronger,
And words need not be used in our language any longer.
Touch me with your breath, so soft and warm upon my face,
As I try to bring you comfort in life’s never ending race.
Touch me with your love when my muzzle turns gray,
I live my life to please you, each and every single day.
Touch me with your scent when age has dimmed my sight,
To reassure me always that you will be my light.
Touch me with your face when your tears are meant for me.
So I may bear your pain and let your heart be free.
Touch me with remembrance when I have traveled on,
And, I will hold your heart in mine forever when I’m gone.
-Credit Skidboot-
Nov
1
by Deborah A Maffucci
This blog was sent via an e-mail letter last week. Deborah has kindly allowed us to share her comments with our readers.
Growing up, my knowledge of my dad’s war experience went no further than, “My dad was in WW II and I think he was stationed in England.”
On advice from my therapist, I decided to go to the attic and find my dad’s discharge papers. Oh my!!! After hours of online research (which is amazingly complete) for the first time I realized that my dad was right in the “thick of WWII”
He was 22 years old in 1942 when he joined the USAAF to fight in the European Theatre in WW II. He received four medals and a Presidential Unit Citation. He was at Normandy, the Battle of the Bulge and Rhineland. He was a Technical Sgt. in the 8th Air Force Fighter Command, 66th Fighter Wing, 339th Fighter Group, 504th Fighting Squadron. Oh my stars !!! He was a soldier.
I needed to read about what it is really like to be a soldier. I found your book, “Tears of a Warrior” at my local library and read it almost in one sitting. I couldn’t put it down. A whole world of understanding and compassion for my dad has been felt in my heart. A sense of awakening and belief that I will feel much more true joy and happiness and conquer my life long feelings of anxiety, fear and depression.
I realize now that I am trying to heal from the secondary PTSD that comes from living with a combat warrior and not knowing it. There was no time for my dad to heal because he died in 1969 from cancer. I realize my dad’s war experiences must have been the true source of our family struggle. It wasn’t because my dad didn’t love us, or because he would rather spend all his time at the firehouse, the VFW or the Elks Club, he was a warrior. I understand why he loved being a fireman, he was draw to the danger, why he abused alcohol, to block out his war memories, why he yelled so much, he was a sergeant. All my childhood memories make sense now. Your book has put my life story in prospective. Thank you for that long awaited insight. !!!
My dad was a combat warrior and I never knew it. I just want to give him the biggest hug right now and tell him how proud I am of him. From 1945 until Dec 7th 1969 when he died, he was fighting WWII in his mind and body.
You have truly helped me to understand what happened to my dad in the war and what he must have struggled with after the war. I hold him in a new and special place in my heart.
God bless you,
Debbie Maffucci
P.S. I borrowed your book from the Jesup Library in Bar Harbor, Maine. I believe it was only hours after you so graciously donated a copy to our town. I have recommended it to my counselor to use in her therapy work.
![41Q+ek-yDrL[1]](http://www.tearsofawarrior.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/03/41Qek-yDrL1-1-230x300.jpg)
