A Sunset Photo (46th Post)

 (Dear Reader, please keep in mind, the events in this Post took place between 1969-1970. At that time, Post Traumatic Disorder had not yet been discovered as a horrific and severe consequence of military combat - or any traumatic experience. Therefore, the PTSD symptoms I witnessed in Rob and unwittingly felt myself - were still a hidden phenomenon.)

Rob knew I loved sunsets. (Dear New Reader, see previous posts.) One late afternoon I  was visiting Matthew - Rob’s roommate - in a house they shared. Rob had returned from the college campus during my visit. Upon greeting me, Rob said he had been sorting through some of his photographs and found one photo of a lovely sunset over a jungle in Vietnam. He asked if I would like to see the photo. I was astonished Rob had actually brought up the subject of his military service in Vietnam, let alone wanted to share a picture he had taken there. Quickly, though, I changed my feeling of astonishment to one of eagerness and replied YES!  As Rob left to get the photo, Matthew and I briefly looked at each other in amazement. I could tell Matthew, too, was surprised by Rob’s openness. Rob soon returned. However, my feeling of astonishment also returned. Rob had not one, but a handful of photos. Rob sat down beside Matthew and me and handed me the sunset photo. Then, he suddenly became very animated, which startled me. As he discussed the beauty of the sunset over the jungle his speech became rapid, and his inflections were laden with emotions. I agreed with his description of the exotic sunset and the lushness of the jungle. However, as I studied the photo something was calling my attention. I peered closer. On the left side of the photo, almost hidden by the density and overgrowth of the jungle, was a small wooden shack. As I narrowed my focus on the little shanty, I caught and held my breath. I was too horrified to speak. There was an adult male body laying on the front porch of the shanty. Sticking out of the man’s throat was a large bayonet. Ironically, the setting sun reflected on the bayonet’s hilt. I assumed the man was an enemy soldier based on his uniform. As Rob continued to discuss the photo, he made no mention of the corpse. I felt alarmed by Rob’s incessant chatter which dismissed the existence of the scene on the front porch. I was incredulous at his indifference to the insane juxtaposition of the gentle sunset and the verdant jungle with the lifeless form inhabiting the porch. 

Feeling overwhelmed and uncertain of what to say to Rob, or even what to do, I focused on fighting to regain a sense of composure. Settled once more, and using a gentle voice, I suggested to Rob we look at the next photo. Rob agreed. As Rob reached for the remaining photos, I fervently prayed the rest of them held no evidence of the terror of war. As good luck would have it, the photos were interesting and benign and showed no more scenes of combat. Once we had seen and discussed all the photos, Rob stated he needed to leave and go work on a paper for his literature class. I said goodbye to Rob and wished him success with the paper. 

“Some truths cause more heartache than healing.”  ( A Hallmark movie)  Once Rob was tucked away in his room, Matthew and I, in very low and shaky voices, discussed Rob’s omission of the dead soldier. I confided to Matthew I felt distraught about Rob.

Matthew shared he was feeling distressed and sad about Rob too. He said Rob rarely said anything about Vietnam to him. He did not know Rob had had any pictures of Vietnam. I grew silent and reflected on what Matthew just shared. I silently wondered to myself, is it possible Rob somehow sensed our strange kinship too? Was showing me the photo his way of trying to brooch his pain? 

Matthew broke our shared silence. Still keeping his voice low, he said he had experienced other enigmatic behaviors from Rob. Yet, he said, Rob also appeared so normal at times. Matthew said whatever was currently plaguing Rob had been absent before his service in Vietnam. I said I too felt his behaviors were a result of combat in Vietnam. Sadly we both agreed we had no idea of how to help him……or even where to look for help for him. 

Feeling emotionally exhausted, I told Matthew I too, like Rob, had homework to attend to and needed to leave. We parted. Very slowly I walked home, feeling the relief of the normalcy of the life that now surrounded me. Rob and I both had puzzles to solve. I wondered if this strange kinship would help us, work against us, or mean nothing at all. Feeling discouraged about both myself and Rob, I realized on my journey to solve the puzzle of me, I was only finding more perplexing questions, not definitive answers. My mind wandered to Debbie. It was becoming apparent Debbie and Rob’s fairytale existence was heading into trouble. Or as Dolly Parton said, “Grief is love with nowhere to go.”