He's gone

“He’s just not the same anymore” his mother says “Does he ever talk about it ..?” I ask “The only thing he ever mentioned was the time he had to retrieve his friend’s body from a supply truck that exploded. It was too gruesome for me ..he’s just not the same anymore.” He can sit at a crowded table with friends and just smile and not say anything for hours. His prior relationships have ended and he can’t remember most of the people he went to high school with. “He isn’t who he was when he went in” a former girlfriend tells me. He can’t drive ..traffic laws and street signs elude him. It scared her to death one night when he drove for miles and did not stop for a single red light. Later on I find out he didn’t really learn to drive until he was in Iraq, and that was mostly on unmarked desert roads. He’s not aware of it when he hits curbs on both side of a residential street. He misses other customary signs of danger as well. He’ll blindly walk across a busy boulevard to reach a starbucks and meet friends. I’m reminded of a line from a book by John Irving and tell him to keep passing the open windows.