What my dad's silence taught me about my own

My father served in Vietnam. He never talked about it. He died in 2018 and I found his DD-214 in a folder under a stack of tax returns. He'd been a door gunner. He had a Bronze Star. I deployed three times to Afghanistan. After my third tour I caught myself doing exactly what he did — silencing the parts of my service that didn't fit at the dinner table. I thought I was protecting my kids. He probably thought he was protecting me. I started writing. Not for them. For me. Things I'd never tell anyone alive. Some of it I'll burn. Some of it I'll keep. The silence almost cost my marriage. I'm not breaking it for anyone but myself, but I am breaking it.