basically i dont care if you drink smoke or do drugs as long as you can hold a conversation about something besides the fact that you drink smoke or do drugs
You died on a Saturday morning. And I had you placed here under our tree. And I had that house of your father’s bulldozed to the ground. Momma always said dyin’ was a part of life. I sure wish it wasn’t.
Little Forrest, he’s doing just fine. About to start school again soon. I make his breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. I make sure he combs his hair and brushes his teeth every day. Teaching him how to play ping-pong. He’s really good. We fish a lot. And every night, we read a book. He’s so smart, Jenny. You’d be so proud of him. I am. He, uh, wrote a letter, and he says I can’t read it. I’m not supposed to, so I’ll just leave it here for you.
Jenny, I don’t know if Momma was right or if, if it’s Lieutenant Dan. I don’t know if we each have a destiny, or if we’re all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze, but I, I think maybe it’s both. Maybe both is happening at the same time. I miss you, Jenny. If there’s anything you need, I won’t be far away.
Oh my god I can’t believe that we’re still doing this whole “why don’t soldiers get the attention celebrities do when they die” bullshit because yes, if you die in combat you deserve front page news, a tv crew at your house for 5 days and extensive media coverage.
If one of my family died in Afghanistan i would go batshit fucking crazy if some bloodthirsty journalist turned up at my door and asked me questions about them, it’s absolutely ridiculous