Overdrawn.

No job should ask more than the employee can give. Some jobs specialize in it. Military service demands it. Any branch of service from Coast Guard to elite an Seal Team, all demand more. More than what the individual thought possible. More than what the families may have initially signed up for. More than the body of a battered and bruised soldier can handle. 

This kid was 12 years old. We never read the files. It seemed best to show up, do the job the best we could, leaving the memories with the family. I was young, early 20s, barely out of the house myself, both parents still alive. I started this duty for money, what I got was the best experience of my life. 

In the military, anyone who serves has the opportunity to have an American Flag, rife squad, and a presented folding of the flag as a memento for a loved-one's time served. The ceremony is expected to be flawless, no matter the conditions. 

This kid was 12. He was sitting next to his mom, there was a sister as well. I did not know her age. The family was three rows deep, indicating a larger-than-normal graveside service. Typically, there is the front row of the fuzzy, green-covered folding chairs and the rest of the people who choose to attend are to stand. When a young family member dies however, there were more. This gentleman was in is 40s (like I said, I do not like to read the files) he had a wife, and two kids. The son was the oldest, the 12-year-old. 

It was my duty to present the flag, an audible for I typically folded. I couldn't help but allow myself to feel the remorse on this one. This child was now going to live his adolescent years, early adulthood, his own fatherhood, all without his. His father did not die in combat, he was not a "war hero," however he was a hero of the highest caliber, his son's. The reminders of a close call my own father had when I was a junior in high school. An aneurysm that left my family praying for a coagulation of blood, stopping the excessive bleeding in the head. 

My father lived, this kid's did not. 

Life choices lead to problems with health. So easy to see the cheeseburger meals, smoking on break, unable to find time to exercise, too much stress, all factors secondary to being a soldier. The job, if you want to limit it to when you go home, takes more than it gives. There is no money, no life insurance policy, no folded flag this kid could receive to make-up for what he lost. The effects of this funeral are lasting, the effects of losing a father too young, insidious. 

On this Veteran's Day, remember all those who served. All the people who gave more than they planned, the loved ones patient, and anyone who supports a veteran cause in anyway. Anyone who served, a hero, no matter the job. Those who fought however, are warriors deserving of the memoriam. Memories, to some a curse more than a blessing. A career that encouraged parts of mental health not appropriate in everyday life. These warriors left to live life on life's terms, but with their battle-tested minds. 

If you hate the President, hate the war, hate all the corruption and greed that so easily distracts from the good, then fine, but don't hate the soldiers. The soldiers are the reason I am able to write this. The people who in anyway were there, attended basic training, went to their technical school to learn about a job so that they could contribute. These people gave more than they got, that much is true. What the rest of us get is to enjoy our freedoms. Even if taken for granted, enjoy something today. Ask around, look at what is happening across the world. We, here in America are able to live, choose, thrive, while so many others can't. Simply writing a Declaration does not make this possible, the men and woman who choose to give does. Make sure you thank God for the soldiers whose job overdrew on their account.