𝐇𝐨𝐰 does a person even keep moving forward when all they do is take hits? For the past year, it feels like I've been constantly telling myself that the beginning is always the hardest. To not give up yet because better days will come. It just takes some time. But if I'm being honest with myself, before now, the idea of starting over in life used to terrify me to no end.
Throughout the decade, I've become a decorated Marine with marks of honor, including different ribbons and medals. Along with the Good Conduct Medal's and other minor decorations I've racked up, I've also received both an Iraq and Afghanistan Campaign Medal as well as both a Bronze and Silver Star. But out of all the decorations and awards I've received, the one that's most special to me is my Purple Heart.
I was the same age that Jamie is now when my grandfather would sit and tell Rick and me stories about his days in the service. I remember the first time I held his purple heart in my hand. It was given after an attack left many making the ultimate sacrifice for their country. Since then, he was an honorably discharged veteran with a dual-chamber pacemaker. He never complained about his fate. Instead, he wore the same amount of pride that he had when receiving the honor as he did on his death bed. It was also the same level of pride he looked at me with when I told him I wanted to grow up to be just like him.
For the longest time, I believed my disorder was just proof I had made the right decision. That it meant I was born to fight. I've known what I wanted to do with my life since I was a child. The idea of having to start all over again and figure things out was something I never thought about. I've been lost ever since things changed so drastically.
Trying to stay positive for the sake of others hasn't been easy. But in this moment, staring up at the fortress-to-be, there is hope. But more odd than that, it's something I haven't experienced in a long time—a dream for the future.
"Mmm. Just like Mom used to make." Glenn throws the animal bone into the small fire. His face was showered in gloom.
It wasn't much of a dinner, but Daryl managed to catch a few squirrels, which made it so we could all have something hit the empty pits we called stomachs.
"You're such a dad." Lori commented with a smile. This is of course after she had watched Rick for the last hour. I had just finished separating Jamie's meat from the bones so she could eat. Otherwise, she won't.
Her words made me smile even more than I expected. "I accept that."
"Do you really think this could be a place for us to live long term?" Beth caught my attention by asking what everyone seemed to be thinking.
