The entire nation sniffed back tears during the Budweiser Super Bowl commercial that welcomed home a young military officer, complete with a ticker tape parade in his hometown.
My Facebook feed is peppered with surprise homecoming videos: dads and moms appearing in uniform at their kids' schools, at their spouse's offices and of one service member who dressed as a pizza delivery man to shock his unsuspecting mom.
Obviously, these are great videos. We love to have our guys and gals in uniform home and safe. Day one, stateside, is always a perfect day.
After the video is posted and everyone heads home, the public moves on with their lives. They leave the scene with a warm heart and the joy of knowing that their friend or neighbor is safe.
What they rarely see is the difficulties that ensue afterwards. Homecoming, and reintegration, can be hell.
The scars of war, whether physical or mental, can strain a family and destroy relationships. Soldiers return haunted, withdrawn and in anguish.
And while they were gone, the world marched on, as did the people they were closest too. Even the strongest marriages can be tested after a deployment ends. For spouses who have been keeping the home front fires burning, it is hard to relinquish control, or sometimes trust that their partner can in fact handle what needs to be done.
Relationships have to be rebuilt. Injuries have to be nursed. Families fall apart and crumble.
While I love the homecoming videos I despise the message they send: we're home now. Everything is ok.
Because often times, it's not.
I want the public to celebrate our homecomings and our victories. But I also want them to stand beside us in the hard times and reach out to lend a hand and understand that the war doesn't end at the front door. These videos, while wonderful, help mask the truth and paint a very wrong picture of life after deployment.
In my perfect world, for every homecoming video there would also be a commercial about the struggles of reintegration. I wish people would show up a week, a month, a year after the ticker tape parade and offer their help. I wish us as military folk would reach out and accept the idea that it is ok to ask for help.
When they come home, my friends, celebrate. Indeed, it is a joyous moment. But when you head home that night, know that your job is not done. As a community our military families need more support than a glorious welcome home party. They need compassion, patience and guidance as they navigate the difficult task of reintegrating as a family and returning to civilian life after a year on the battlefield.
Our service members want us there for the parade. They need us there for the dark, difficult struggles afterwards. Will you be there?
