Let me tell you a story. Not one from a battlefield, though I have plenty of those. This one’s from my bed — a hospice bed, where I now spend most of my days. I’m 45. My body’s been through the wringer after a traumatic brain injury, and now I’ve got Parkinson’s and early-onset dementia to go along with it.
One afternoon, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the buzz of machines, I had this thought: “Why didn’t I just take them on a trip?” I’ve spent my years chasing VA claims, managing appointments, keeping up with bills, and being the tough guy who never slows down. But now? I lie here thinking not about medals or money but about memories I never made.
VA benefits: More than just a check
If you’re getting VA disability — maybe you just got that backpay you’ve been waiting months for — listen closely: Don’t be like me.
Yes, pay your bills. Handle your business. But carve out some of that money for the people you love. Take your kids to Disneyland. Surprise your spouse with a weekend getaway. Sit on a beach and watch your little ones chase waves. Those moments? Priceless.
I thought I had time. Turns out, none of us do.
The weight of regret
When I close my eyes, I don’t see my service stripes or my discharge papers. I see my daughter blowing out birthday candles without me there. I see my son at baseball games, looking to the bleachers and not finding me. That’s the weight I carry now — not just illness, but regret.
You might think, “I’ll take that trip next year. I’ll plan it when things settle down.” I said the same thing. But next year is never promised.
The real mission: Make memories
Some vets online agreed with me. After reading my message, one said he’s using his pay to take his family on a vacation, finally. Another shared how he almost died when his colon ruptured and now takes multiple trips a year. One man said his partner was told to say goodbye before his surgery, but he pulled through. Now, he lives every day like it could be his last.
That’s the club I’m in now. Not the VFW, but the “I should’ve done more while I still could” club.
It’s not too late — For you
I’ve got two young kids. They still sit beside my bed and tell me about school. I hold their hands and smile, but I ache inside wishing I’d taken them to see the Grand Canyon or camp under the stars. I can’t go anymore. But you can.
So here it is — one vet to another, one father to another, one human being to another:
Take the vacation. Make the memories. Don’t be like me