Loss, Purpose, and Grieving: A Warrior’s Search for Meaning

By Austin Hill

Kind of scary to think about how okay I was with the idea of dying while i was in the military because it felt like that was okay, a part of the job. But it was also something I never shared with my family because I did not want them to hurt my mindset... A warrior’s death was an honor in some way, it was this idea that I died for something bigger than myself. I was dying for my brothers, my kin, and my country. In the military, you almost become passive-aggressive suicidal. You don’t want to die. You don’t hope you die... but you become so okay with the idea that it just becomes normal. And psychologically, I don’t think you ever come back from it. 

     You leave the military you try to go to school, you try to fit back in and adjust to civilian life once again. You struggle to relate with your family; you struggle to relate with other students; you struggle to relate to your coworkers. You find the only people that actually make sense to you are veterans or your friends that are still in. They understand you. They know the same feeling all too well. The only way to supplement this idea is to find some kind of purpose. But it is rare to find another job that gives you the same level of purpose that you once felt. I think that is why so many veterans feel so depressed and suicidal so often. 

     We are lost. So extremely lost in the world. Searching to fill a void. Sometimes there are voids that we looked to be filled by joining the military, and for some, it does for a while. Broken families breed some of the best Marines I have ever had the privilege of serving beside. Being a product of a broken family, I looked at the Marine Corps as a place to fill a void, to be a family, and a sense of belonging I lacked growing up. And for the years I spent in, it did. 

     I met some of the best people I’ve ever known, but our times in the Corps all ended at different times. But our pains all started again at different times. We longed for a family that we found. We bonded over pain, blood, sweat, and genuine love for one another. When we become separated from that family, the search for it begins again. Some of us never find it, not in the same way we did before. Sure, you see veterans or old friends you served with at reunions or hikes. But that everyday living and suffering together, that is what you miss and long for once again. 

     Since I got out, it has been a constant struggle to find that sense of belonging, but I have yet to find it. It makes me question my career choices, the people I spent my time with, and worst of all, it makes me wonder if I will ever have a purpose worth being alive for again. Hidden behind forced smiles and sad eyes, I’m still empty searching for that thing to fill the void. I hope one day I find it. Or I am lucky enough to be granted a warrior’s death. Not sure which one I will find if either. 

But I will keep searching until I do find it. I am a broken warrior, but I keep fighting on...even though I feel like I am losing most days.