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I’d been out of the Coast Guard nearly two years when the deaths began.

My shipmates and friends feeling the same inconceivable loss were dispersed around the country.

I had moved away to the Big Easy, where I worked in a job representing the industry my former military branch regulates—on the “other side.” Seeing my former shipmates at mutual business meetings dressed in the uniform I’d proudly worn every day for half a decade made the feeling of separation more acute.

The Marine Corps taught Peter that despair and violence were renewing.The children were playing on the floor of his hospital room while his wife looked out the window.She didn’t say anything when I rearranged his pillow, or even when I left the room. By Sarah Holzhalb With every step they would watch me, as the suffocating humidity of Louisiana summer drenched me in salty sweat.I sought refuge away from my devices in my monthly issue of .About a month after the marathon of funerals, I found myself mindlessly snapping through the latest edition.

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