Before You Judge a Veteran’s Smile This Memorial Day An Open Message to Civilians from a Veteran Who Knows You may walk past a group of veterans this Memorial Day weekend and see them smiling. Maybe they’re laughing, maybe they’re raising a glass. You might even think, “How could they be celebrating on a day meant for mourning?” Before that judgment forms fully in your heart, I want to tell you a story. I knew a veteran who was blown up in Iraq when an IED hit his Humvee. Three of his best friends died instantly. He survived—barely a scratch. On the outside, that is. On the inside? He was torn to pieces. He didn’t feel lucky. He felt cursed. He asked himself every single day, “Why me? Why did I survive?” That’s called survivor’s guilt. It’s a weight many of us carry long after the war has ended. It doesn’t always show up in obvious ways. It hides inside the bottle, behind the anger, beneath the isolation. This veteran fell into alcoholism, unemployment, pharmaceuticals, nightmares, and shame. And underneath all of it was this crushing belief: “If I can’t live a full life, I don’t deserve the life I was given. I’m failing them.” This is the hidden battle—one that never makes the evening news. But something sacred happens when that veteran breaks through the guilt. When he finally, after years or even decades, realizes that what his fallen brothers would want more than anything is for him to live—to heal—to feel joy again. That moment is not a party. It’s resurrection. So if you see a veteran laughing this weekend, please know: You may be witnessing their first real smile in years. That smile is not about forgetting the fallen. It is about honoring them. It is about living the life they cannot. This is not your invitation to join the table or chime in with platitudes. This is not your space. You haven’t worn the uniform. You haven’t buried your brothers. Just let us be. Let us mourn in our way. Let us celebrate in our way. Because we do mourn. We carry the names. We remember the faces. We hold the moments close. But we also carry the weight of being alive when they are not—and sometimes, smiling is the only way we make peace with that truth. If you want to honor our fallen this weekend, go read their names. Tell their stories. Donate to support the living. Visit a grave, listen to a song, or sit in silence. But please—if you see us smiling, don’t look at us with judgment. You might just send someone spiraling back into the hell they barely escaped from. We’re not celebrating their deaths. We are celebrating their lives. And sometimes, the only way to survive the guilt of living is to laugh in their honor. Thank you for listening. And thank you for giving us the space to heal. — Jason Moon Combat Veteran, Iraq 2003–2004 Founder, Warrior Songs. Co-founder, Arizona Warriors Assembly (fb)

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