The Courage of Love

Today, we share a heartfelt reflection from Vic R. Josue, MD, Staff Psychiatrist and Captain, USAFR Medical Corps (Ret.), whose words speak to the courage, loss, and enduring human connection carried by so many Veterans.

As Memorial Day approaches, I wanted to share something personal.

My family, like many families touched by war, carries stories of sacrifice across generations. My uncle was among the first captured as a prisoner of war in the southern Philippines in February 1942. My father served as a reconnaissance officer during the war. 

My father-in-law served with the United States Army in one of the first Army units to engage in battle during World War II. He survived the Bataan Death March—a brutal 60-mile march where thousands of American and Filipino soldiers perished on the way to prison camps—and somehow endured to come home and rebuild a life.

These stories remind us that war does not end when the battle ends. Sometimes it continues silently for decades—in memory, in grief, in relationships, in the words people cannot say.

I once knew a Vietnam Veteran who could never tell his daughters, “I love you.” He cared deeply for them, worked hard for them, protected them—but emotionally he remained in what he called his “bunker.” Like many combat Veterans, part of him never fully came home.

Then something happened. A young man from his church community in Morgan Hill—a fellow Veteran, though unknown personally to him—died by suicide.

And it shook him deeply.

He realized how many people were suffering silently behind emotional walls. He realized life was fragile, and that love left unspoken can become another kind of wound.

From that day on, he felt a profound obligation to come out of his bunker. To say the words he could hardly speak: “I love you.” Not perfectly. Not easily. But intentionally. Through words, through presence, through action.

I think there is something deeply important in that story for all of us.

Many of the Veterans we serve carry burdens invisible to the world—grief, guilt, moral injury, loneliness, memories they have never spoken aloud. Sometimes what helps begin healing is not a grand intervention, but human connection: being seen, being remembered, being treated with dignity and gratitude.

This Memorial Day, let us remember that the Veterans before us are someone’s father, mother, brother, sister, child, or friend. See those faces in the Veterans you serve.

And give thanks.

Because the cycle of healing and hope often begins with sacrifice, gratitude, and the courage to step out of our own bunkers to tell people they matter.

If we can help even one Veteran feel less alone, then our work today will have been done well.

Thank you.

Vic R. Josue, MD
Fremont VA Clinic
Staff Psychiatrist
Captain, USAFR Medical Corps, Ret

This Memorial Day, we honor the fallen, stand with the families who carry their memories, and recommit ourselves to serving Veterans with compassion, dignity, and gratitude.