Since that whirlwind of a night, the trajectory of Combat Flags has changed. I’ve talked with thousands of you via email, Facebook messenger, Instagram messenger and even LinkedIn this year. You’ve told me stories of your service, you’ve told me stories of loved ones who have committed suicide following a deployment (or multiple deployments), you’ve told me stories of loved ones who were killed on deployment and you’ve told me stories of hope.
On the screen I saw memories of my old life, of my current life, and inspiration for a future life. Images of time in the service, images of the early days of Combat Flags and images of my family shone brightly on large, rectangular screens. A booming voice narrated, offering the story of Combat Flags, my story, to a charmed audience.
I’ve had a gnawing, grating feeling since I graduated college. This feeling I couldn’t shake. This feeling I kept pushing deep, deep down. This feeling that, to this day, creeps up on me and stops me in my tracks. This feeling is that I’ve lost my purpose.