My brother served three "tours" in Vietnam, including his service in the Special Forces. When he returned, he continued his military service and raised his family. Little by little, his challenges surfaced and it became evident that underneath his behaviors was PTSD.

When he returned, he continued in the Army and eventually retired, and became the VP of Technology for a multi-campus state two-year college system. He performed brilliantly and eventually retired from that career as well. He has been a spokesperson to large groups on Veterans’ Day. Since retiring, he has taken hiking trips across the continent, and enjoys driving his new Tesla.

So where is my loss? It sounds great doesn’t it? The loss is embedded in his PTSD. Whatever happened to him in Vietnam and his time in the service, stole my brother. He was my hero when we were growing up. He’s six years older than I am and I thought he was the most courageous, witty, and smartest person on the planet.

He wrote me twice while he was in Vietnam. I was in high school and treasured his letters. He told me he wanted to come home, take care of his family, take piano lessons and have a dog. He shared his hopes and dreams with me in those two brief letters.

When he returned home, connection with him was lost. In the last 47 years, we have spoken, perhaps 4 or 5 times. When our mother died, we were both in Florida for the funeral. Somehow, I became a target. Everything I said brought a loud, boisterous (and embarrassing) response from him. He had to be in control of everything that was going on. After the funeral I didn’t hear from him for several years.

Later, when my father was happily remarried. I decided to visit him and his new wife. As soon as my brother found out, he drove (35 hours straight) and found us at a museum. For the next two days, he would not allow me near my father. To this day, I don’t understand. When I send birthday cards, they have been returned. When I inquired what had gone on, his response was hostile.

He is still alive, but for over 45 years, since Vietnam, I haven’t had a relationship with my brother. I miss him…the brother I knew in high school. And I pray for him. Prayer is where I find comfort, knowing that Jesus understands both of us. I’ve done what I can do so I turn him over the Lord for healing and deliverance for the situation. The Bible confirms that God hears my prayers and He is the Author of restoration. When I miss my brother, when I hope for healing for him, I put him in the arms of Jesus, who hears, heals, comforts and restores.