I don't remember where I was on March 20, 2003—somewhere in Richmond, Va., in school, working hard to get through. I was in much the same place when the event that precipitated the U.S. invasion of Iraq, 9/11, occurred. Thinking I had problems—which, in retrospect, were so petty.
For much of the past eight years I have been trying to repay my debt of ignorance by documenting what happened not only to the soldiers who served in the Iraq war but to their families. Too many funerals, too many families destroyed, too few happy homecomings.
We have lost so much, even those indifferent to the sacrifice. Meanwhile, the fate of Iraqi civilians has passed from the hands of a dictator to that of lawlessness in a country where violence is the currency. There have been, and will continue to be, moments of progress and hope, but the future of Iraq is uncertain.
So after 10 years, what did I learn? I care about all the lives lost. I still don't know if it was worth it.