Memorial day like so many holidays has a bitter sweet tone to it for me. And the reason once again for the bitterness is due to the "D."
When I was a junior in High School, I knew that my parents were not going to be able to pay for me to attend college. We struggled just to pay the rent, have clothes on our backs and food on the table. And with mom and dad divorced, they did not work well to solve problems such as this. It was always day to day.
I knew that the only way I would get a great education was to join the Armed Forces. More specifically, I wanted to join the Air Force. I have always had such great respect for those who serve to protect our freedom. I wanted to be apart of that.
I got in touch with a Recruiter through my High School and told him how I thought this was the right move for me given the hazy future ahead. He agreed (of course) and was ready to make my 4 year commitment.
Then on October 2nd 1990 I was diagnosed. I went through all that crap not thinking at all about this aspect of my future plans.
Then I got a call from the recruiter asking me to fill out some paperwork or something (I cannot remember exactly) and I told him what had happened.
I remember a very long pause and him telling me that he was pretty sure that was a problem.
I was crushed. What was I to do? My family had no money. I had no clue as what to do with my life. It was already becoming clear that Diabetes was going to close doors in my life. I was so upset.
So now I look back each Memorial Day and wonder what life would have been like had I not had the D and went into the Air Force. Where would I be now?
When I look at my life and count the endless number of blessings I am happy right where I am. Had one thing been different along the road, who knows where I would be.
Nah. I like it here