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My Daddy's Tears
The first time I can remember being entirely and completely sad, happened when I was five years old. It was January of 1966. My dad was leaving for Vietnam. I suppose being as young as I was I did not understand the significance of what was about to happen to our family. I don't remember if my mom cried although I am sure she did. I don't remember if my brother or sister cried either. What I do remember as if it was yesterday is that my dad cried. It was the first time I had ever seen my daddy cry and it was powerfully frightening! It was the first time I had ever seen my daddy as a human being. Up until that very moment, I had thought him to be some sort of super hero. You know, like Batman or Superman, only without a cape. I just new he had superhuman strengths, he was handsome and brave and strong and in my five year old mind I just knew that nothing could hurt him and certainly nothing would ever make him cry! He was invincible…wasn't he? I remember feeling so confused…so overwhelmed…and so frightened. I couldn't understand why my daddy was crying. He told us he was going away for a little while. It wasn't the first time his job had taken him away and it wasn't the first time he told my brother and sister and I to be strong and good kids, to help mommy and then he promised he would be back before we knew it. So why was he crying? He had never cried before when he left for temporary duty. So why now? Daddies aren't supposed to cry…are they? I was terrified and I cried a river of tears that were born of my daddy's tears. I cried out to him…"Don't go Daddy!"…At least I think I did! Maybe I only said it in my mind while I stood there with the picture of my daddy walking away…his eyes res and his face wet with tears…being burned into my memory forever. During the next year, I sat with my mom in front of the TV and listened to the news reports about the casualties of Vietnam. Once I realized that was where my daddy had gone, I watched with intent, the still, black and white photographs of the men who were fighting for a cause I was too young to understand…all the while hoping for a glimpse of my daddy. At Christmas time, I remember us watching a Bob Hope USO show. As the cameras moved through the audience of soldiers, we looked for him and were so disappointed when it was over and we hadn't seen him…knowing he was going to be there. We heard more and more that people were angry about the war and angry with the soldiers who were sent to fight the war and I was angry because it meant they were mad at my daddy! It wasn't long before my five year old mind began to understand the root of my daddy's tears. I was one of the lucky kids!!!! In January 1967...right after my sixth birthday…my super hero daddy came home!!! I saw him cry again as he kissed and hugged all of us. This time I wasn't frightened. I am so glad he came home and so thankful that I could see him with his tears of sorrow for all that he had lost and tears of joy for all he had not. Forty years have gone by and I don't ever remember telling my daddy how happy and how thankful I am that he came home! I don't want another year to pass without letting him know that I love him and he is still my super hero! I write this with much love and dedicate it to my dad, R.D. Buck, and to all of the super hero mommies and daddies, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters who selflessly gave themselves in life and in death in Vietnam, and to those who went before and all of those who came after Vietnam and who have given us the life and and liberties we have now…I salute you!!! I love You Daddy!!!!!
The first time I can remember being entirely and completely sad, happened when I was five years old. It was January of 1966. My dad was leaving for Vietnam. I suppose being as young as I was I did not understand the significance of what was about to happen to our family. I don't remember if my mom cried although I am sure she did. I don't remember if my brother or sister cried either. What I do remember as if it was yesterday is that my dad cried. It was the first time I had ever seen my daddy cry and it was powerfully frightening! It was the first time I had ever seen my daddy as a human being. Up until that very moment, I had thought him to be some sort of super hero. You know, like Batman or Superman, only without a cape. I just new he had superhuman strengths, he was handsome and brave and strong and in my five year old mind I just knew that nothing could hurt him and certainly nothing would ever make him cry! He was invincible…wasn't he? I remember feeling so confused…so overwhelmed…and so frightened. I couldn't understand why my daddy was crying. He told us he was going away for a little while. It wasn't the first time his job had taken him away and it wasn't the first time he told my brother and sister and I to be strong and good kids, to help mommy and then he promised he would be back before we knew it. So why was he crying? He had never cried before when he left for temporary duty. So why now? Daddies aren't supposed to cry…are they? I was terrified and I cried a river of tears that were born of my daddy's tears. I cried out to him…"Don't go Daddy!"…At least I think I did! Maybe I only said it in my mind while I stood there with the picture of my daddy walking away…his eyes res and his face wet with tears…being burned into my memory forever. During the next year, I sat with my mom in front of the TV and listened to the news reports about the casualties of Vietnam. Once I realized that was where my daddy had gone, I watched with intent, the still, black and white photographs of the men who were fighting for a cause I was too young to understand…all the while hoping for a glimpse of my daddy. At Christmas time, I remember us watching a Bob Hope USO show. As the cameras moved through the audience of soldiers, we looked for him and were so disappointed when it was over and we hadn't seen him…knowing he was going to be there. We heard more and more that people were angry about the war and angry with the soldiers who were sent to fight the war and I was angry because it meant they were mad at my daddy! It wasn't long before my five year old mind began to understand the root of my daddy's tears. I was one of the lucky kids!!!! In January 1967...right after my sixth birthday…my super hero daddy came home!!! I saw him cry again as he kissed and hugged all of us. This time I wasn't frightened. I am so glad he came home and so thankful that I could see him with his tears of sorrow for all that he had lost and tears of joy for all he had not. Forty years have gone by and I don't ever remember telling my daddy how happy and how thankful I am that he came home! I don't want another year to pass without letting him know that I love him and he is still my super hero! I write this with much love and dedicate it to my dad, R.D. Buck, and to all of the super hero mommies and daddies, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters who selflessly gave themselves in life and in death in Vietnam, and to those who went before and all of those who came after Vietnam and who have given us the life and and liberties we have now…I salute you!!! I love You Daddy!!!!!