Fortunately for Owen, one of the top psych guys at the VA had a cancellation for that afternoon. He was relieved, since acting on the decision immediately gave him less time to second-guess himself. He took off work early and headed over to his appointment, telling Cristina he had some business to attend to and that he'd see her tomorrow. He had no desire to get into it with her or with anyone for that matter, and luckily she was so busy charting that she waved him off with barely a nod. Once in the office, he was pleasantly surprised to find that Lt. Col. Anders was only a handful of years older than he was, and that they had actually done a stint in Iraq at about the same time. Though breaking the ice was a bit awkward at first, Owen surprised himself by opening up once he had established that the session was not going to be a bunch of woo-woo bullshit.

"A couple of the guys in that unit went all the way back to bootcamp with me," he explained. "There was another one I'd gone to med school with. And… one of the women was engaged to a good friend of mine. I introduced them to each other…" He was shaking his head as he spoke, and clenching and unclenching his hands. "Some of those people were married, with kids… So why the hell am I sitting here while they're rotting in their graves or sitting in an urn on the mantle? It's not like I want to die… I really don't… but I have a fucking hard time justifying being here …"

"So you shut yourself down instead," Anders stated. ""And when you do enjoy yourself you feel…?"

Owen closed his eyes and paused to think, and when he opened them he felt like he was seeing it all clearly for the first time. "Guilty," he spoke softly but with dawning awareness, "Guilty as hell… for being here… for having a life… for having a beautiful woman interested in me… for everything I guess."

Anders continued to prompt him. "So you find a way to ruin the great moments in your life by…?"

"Yeah…ok… I get it… I get it…" Owen rubbed his hands over his face wearily. "I get it."

"Have you ever heard the term "Survivor Guilt'?" asked Anders.

"Yeah, I have. I thought that was for other people… you know… patients." His half smile was self-deprecating and sad.

Anders nodded his understanding. "Look, Major, I see a lot of guys like you, and I can't think of one decent person among them who doesn't feel this way after losing people close to them, especially in a battlefield situation. It's as normal and human as taking a piss. If you were a Private or a Corporal – some green kid barely out of bootcamp - I could give you the talk about what your dead buddies would want you to do with your life, since you're lucky enough to still have it. But my guess is you're old enough and smart enough and experienced enough to have already had that conversation with yourself. So I think that focusing in on that aspect is probably a red herring for you."

Owen nodded and waited expectantly for him to continue.

"My experience is that there are steps in the process of getting over a traumatic incident like this one, and that most people who get stuck have skipped over dealing with their grief. That's especially true in the Service, because we're supposed to be warriors and just suck it up."

Owen nodded in agreement but still said nothing.

"So I have to ask you, Major… You lost a lot of people who were important to you. Have you given yourself a space to grieve for them?"

What the fuck? Owen shook his head and let out a sound of frustration. "I don't even know where I would begin. I have no idea what that looks like."

"Most people don't. They see people crying at funerals and they think that's all there is to it. Shed a few tears and get over it. Get on with your life... But grieving is a personal thing and your way might be different from someone else's. Some people yell and scream and cry, while others can grieve intensely and not make a sound. It can look like that and everything in between. Either way, you have to take care of it. Otherwise, it's likely to leak out all over the place in different ways. Maybe your temper will be short at work, or you won't be able to sleep, or you'll get violent with your girlfriend, or you won't be able to get an erection. It won't look like grief when it comes out, but that's where the core is. The only way to get past this is to slog your way through it. "

Owen was intrigued, but he was also getting impatient. "Great. Ok. So what am I supposed to do with this information? Should I be looking up their grave sites and going there? Visiting their families? This is all very interesting, but what do you suggest I actually DO?"

"Good question, and no," Anders replied. "You could fly all over the country to a dozen cemeteries and the end result would be no more meaningful than doing some basic work on it right here in Seattle. You don't have to find the actual graves. Your buddies aren't in there, anyway. In the end, this is a symbolic process. Do you have a group photo of your unit, by any chance?"

The question hit him like a punch to the gut. Yes, he thought, I do. The one we all took two days before the end. The one in front of the Humvee with Saddam, that stray mutt we adopted.

The one Owen hadn't been able to look at since he had downloaded the memory card to his computer.

"Yeah, I do," was all he said.

"Good. That's good. The Tahoma National Cemetery is about a ½ hour outside the city, and there are plenty of Iraq vets buried there. It's open till sunset every day. Take your photo. Pick a grave to sit by. It doesn't matter whose it is. Let it stand for all of them."

"So I just go and sit there? Then what?"

"Then you let whatever comes up, come up. I know that sounds kind of vague, but it has to be. I can't tell you how this will play out for you. The key is not to be afraid of it or hold anything in. Just sit there and let it come."

"You know you're scaring the living shit out of me, right?" Owen asked with an awkward and cheerless smile.

Anders looked him in the eye and held his gaze for a moment. "I trust you can handle it, Major. And afterwards, if you need to, you can come back and talk to me again."

"Ok." They both rose . Owen shook hands with Anders and turned to leave.

"One more thing, Major." Owen stopped on his way out the door and turned. "Wear your uniform. It'll help you get where you need to go."

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