I had this American-Girl doll sitting on my couch inside my room, and it was my 3rd birthday gift from my American Veteran Grandfather. I haven't noticed that doll until yesterday. I can't really described what happened next, all the memories of my Grandpa came inside my head, and also pieces of my past life memory as an American veteran who died in the World War 2. To know that my grandpa was also an American veteran (yet he survived) it shook me emotionally as I cried alone in the room remembering what happened back then, how cruel the world was and how guilty I was. And yet I have no one to share these emotions with, it's all just so deep and unexplainable. This is the most pathos past life I've ever remembered, and it's still blocking my way to live in the present.
Let me write the story of my last past life in short. I grew up in a horse farm, living up a simple peaceful life as a child. But as I grew up, violence strikes. Some kids near the farm used to bullied me, and I learned not to develop violence ever since. It was not until I had my own family and a 2-year-old daughter until I have to join the military for the sake the country. Then again I remember I don't like violence. It all felt so wrong for me and I am not ready yet to battle, and I'm pretty sure I wasn't alone at feeling that way. Yet all veterans didn't have the right to struggle, we were under command. I survived each day, becoming more and more paranoid and anxious.
And so the time came, the time when I saw something pathos. I saw myself hiding in the woods alone, paranoid. Perhaps lost. I can't think about anything but my family and my survival. Then I heard a sound in such paranoid condition. I reflectively took action by shoot directly to where the voice came from. As I walked by, it was actually a young boy. And he died because of me. He seemed to be as young as my daughter. I cried in tears; that was the worst feeling I've ever feel. Feeling so guilty, I took my very last action; I killed myself. I really can't describe how emotional it was.
It's been years. I came back in year 1995, in different country that is. Yet a family member of mine, my veteran grandfather, was somehow strongly related to me. And we can feel that. I came to America for a visit in year 1998 to my Grandfather's house. He noticed I've been drawing horses all the time, so he carried me to his neighbor's farm with horses in it. I was really happy as he was. He carried me back to my peaceful field, before I recognize chaos and violence.
I was too young to talk about the memorized scenes to my Grandpa, but we both know that we were there. I can tell through how emotionally close we were despite the age.
My Grandpa passed away when I was 10, and I haven't got any chance to see him again. If he's still here he'll probably understand how hard it is to let go, or he probably knows how to deal with it.
But then again, he must've been alone too during the war. And he was strong enough to survive. I must do what he did. And I will not repeat my mistakes.
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