In Memory of John

And coming clean

Well, you may have asked yourself what has happened and where I have been, so… time to come clean. One look at my face and you can tell what I used to do in the military, thus this is what we do, we push through, and we don’t let anything stop us. That has been engrained into my DNA before the military, and that is what I do, moving forward, whatever it takes.

Thus the coming clean part. My last Covid infection, while respiratorily mild, led to more complications than I let people believe. I had visible micro-clotting damage, and if you ask how can I tell, simple. My ex also had micro-clots and her eyes got quite literally bloodshot. I had the same this time but kept pushing. So I had a hard decision to make.

If I don’t fix myself, one of these waves will get me, and I have been postponing doing it for a while now. In my particular case, Covid has been a tug of war between recovering from the last infection’s damage before the next one came in, in an attempt to avoid the damage pilling up. As things stand, it is a fight I was bound to lose at some point with supplementation alone. My body is too broken from my past, and giving myself 3 of the worst Covid strains possible wasn’t one of my best ideas…

The decision was hard. Keep saving money to buy my rig (powerful computer+beefy GPU), or unfuck myself. I gave up on the rig and bought peptides. Plans change, we adapt.

So while recovering, pushing through it, daily life, good things, some bad, life throws you a curve ball. A friend from the military days passed away in an “accident”, which caught me by surprise but, living the life we did in the private sector, it is not entirely unexpected. To understand the next paragraph, anyone who goes into specific parts of military service knows that sometimes you can form very strong bonds, bonds that can’t be replicated elsewhere. The bond you have with your wife or husband, brother, sister or parents is different than the one with your military brothers, but as strong.

I have lost over a dozen of my brothers, the family I found during service. What I however could never foresee was my brother’s death, John, the last one. My best friend taking his own life…a common plague among us. Something I myself contemplated once with my Glock. With everything else going on, this sent me into emotional shock for a few hours, I felt completely and entirely broken. With the support of many people (one specifically, thank you for being there) I kicked myself out of shock.

Well, support and memories. Memories can be incredibly powerful, and certain memories are what kept me alive after all these years. John is central to many of these memories.

John was that one man. The warrior in every 100 men who brought others back. He was a natural-born leader, one of the few whose mere visage would garner respect, let alone the deeds. Not only I was trained by him, he was also our team leader. Avoiding gruesome details, many freeze during their first dance with death in combat, which is to be expected. But most will freeze after not only experiencing but witnessing an IED aftermath.

He never froze, not once, in any situation. I am not ashamed to say that day was the first, and thanks to him the last day I froze, and he quite literally snapped (slapped) me out of it. The most courageous, honest, strong friend one could have at your hardest times. Honorable. He had the ability to bring the innate talent inside each of his men out, to reach full potential.

John was a huge part of the reason I am who I am today. He could lift the spirits of anyone, a man who could have fun in the simplest of manners, but also could enjoy my type of fun, learning how to play video games or card games. A few of my fondest memories are we playing games together, screaming at people playing online games just for giggles, or playing Magic The Gathering and he growing ever frustrated with my playing style.

While I have experienced a lot of physical and some emotional pain, John experienced losses I can’t imagine how it feels. After losing so many of my brothers I grew numb to it… This doesn’t cover 1% of John’s significance and history, one day I may write more about him. I have to accept his choice, I lost a piece of me, but I will grieve and heal.

So why am I writing ? Perhaps my own way to grieve him. Perhaps because men like John are not remembered, they don’t get a white cross or a star on some wall. My own little way of making sure the world knows it lost one of its best. Someone who bled, gave it all in the pursuit and belief that he was making the world a little better, a little safer.

I appreciate your support, in all forms, many of my readers have a closer relationship with me than merely “just reading what that guy wrote”.

Normal posting resumes tomorrow.

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