My father died two weeks ago. He was 99 years old. He had a good and long life. He gave me poetry, a puppy, love of literature, love of travel, love of food and cooking, and love of learning.
Tag: PTSD
Thank a Veteran
Only then, did I start to put the traumatic pieces together and how his trauma became my trauma, not on the beaches of Okinawa, but in the suburbs of New Jersey. When my father was a soldier, PTSD was not a known disorder, and there was no help or treatment for World War II veterans.
Word Dancer: Literature, the Arts, & Education 