This is no Joke, this is war

A Great Man

I was sitting in my normal seat eating. I was waiting for the kid Masato as he has been walking up to me everyday for a week. I had actually grown to enjoy our talks and every day he came equipped with a new joke each one so bad they're funny jokes. It was a good day as the food shipments had just arrived so we got some fresh food and it was especially good today. We had peaches, rice and green beans and a lot of it too. Just then I see the young enter the room and I frown. For the first time since i've meet him he didn't have his usually happy aroma. His entrance immediately changed the mood of the room and as I took my next bite of the green beans I nearly gagged what just moments earlier made my day now tasted retched and soggy. He seemed to have come alone as he trudges over to a table by himself. I hesitated for a moment but after thinking I stood up and walked over to his table.

"Hey kids how's it going?" I asked almost scared of how he would respond.

"What you want?" He muttered.

"Just want to talk," I said "Whats going on?"

"Nothin' "

"Listen, I had a kid I know when something's wrong."

"What happened to your son?" He said. This question caught me off guard and I wasn't sure how to answer. I told him "He passed away not too long ago, leukemia. I guess it happens to the best of us."

"Why, why does this have to happen?"

"Don't know kid I don't know."

I attend his father's funeral on his request. I feel it's the least I can do for him and his family. I look upon the grieving family that has lost someone they loved dearly and I felt a sense of longing. I think upon how I grieved for a son I never really connected with or cared deeply for and I put that into the perspective of a loving close bonded family. I watch as the funeral members all sit down in utter silence a bored looking pastor asked if anyone would like to say a few words. At first no one looks interested but the to everyone's surprise Masato rises and slowly shuffles over to the podium. He begins to talk

"This man was a great man," he starts "he was a loving father, son, and husband. He sacrificed everything for his loved ones. He moved to America under harsh circumstances, he faced countless encounters with racism and discrimination, he let society beat him down so that he could help his kids and wife and family rise up. He was a great man and he was punished by the people around you, the Americans who do not understand that we are all people, they punished him because they don't understand. I stand here and ask these people is this war worth fighting when innocent, great men get punished. Is it worth running this endless road until enough great men are punished that there corpses block our view of the endless road we are running. I ask you all, how long will we run this road?"

I look around at the faces of the family members of the man now being buried and see a look of determination spread across there faces. Every person at the funeral take turns walking up to the casket and saying their goodbye. I approach slowly and look down at a man I didn't know. I had nothing to say so I take my purple heart off my coat, the only thing I have ever accomplished and I give it to a man that deserves it. I think back to the meaning of the purple heart, it is gifted to people injured in battle. I give it to the man that suffered more from his injury something that goes beyond death, he lost his family and will not be able to be there for them, he is the ultimate victim of the endless road.