Between 1964 and 1975, 2.7 million Americans served in Vietnam. Many returned with PTSD, and for those families, the war never really ended. Julie Von shares her experience growing up with a veteran father and how his work shaped her career.

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When Julie Von was five, she drew a picture of her family. Her father is in it, a retired Army infantry Ranger and Lieutenant Colonel who served three tours in Vietnam, but he doesn't have a mouth.

"He was sort of present but not," Von says now.

The absence had a soundtrack: hearing aids squealing, artillery in Vietnam cost him most of his hearing by age 25, and snoring from undiagnosed sleep apnea. Von recalls her dad falling asleep while talking. He'd drop off mid-conversation, a soldier's survival skill gone sideways in civilian life. Her father had severe PTSD. But the VA didn't grant him full disability recognition until 2022, nearly five decades after Vietnam. He died in September 2024. 

For the estimated 14  million Americans caring for veterans and nearly 75% who are over 60, Von's story is both specific and universal: How do you navigate a complex system to get your parent the support they've earned? How do you advocate for someone whose pride won't let them ask for help?

Von, now a clinician and educator in New York whose work focuses on intergenerational trauma, didn't set out to become an expert on veteran families, she became one by necessity. After her father retired from 21 years of service and moved the family back to West Texas, she started noticing things. His startle response. The way he ate impossibly fast and how he could fall asleep anywhere, instantly, were all tells of something more. 

"Combat soldiers oftentimes carry this sort of thing," Von explains. "They eat really quickly, they sleep really quickly. It's part of what makes you a good soldier. But my dad, he wasn't one anymore."

By the time Von was in her early twenties, her father had fallen asleep driving on the Interstate and crashed into a parked car. The VA then assessed him for sleep apnea and narcolepsy, both markers of PTSD, and provided treatment. It was one of the few times his symptoms couldn't be minimized.

It took a fellow Ranger, a man Von's father met through a veteran network late in life, to help push the 100 percent disability rating through. That rating unlocked benefits Von's family hadn't known existed. Her mother no longer has to pay property or school taxes. After her father's death, they worked with VA representatives to appeal his death certificate, listing his blood cancer (linked to Agent Orange exposure) as the primary cause. That added hundreds of dollars a month to her mother's survivor benefits.

"All those years they could have been saving money," Von says. "My parents didn't even know" these benefits existed.

Von's father, like many Vietnam vets, carried what she calls moral injury alongside PTSD. He refused his Purple Heart because it wasn't given to a soldier in his command who was killed in action. While admirable, that sort of pride made self-advocacy nearly impossible. He stayed connected to his veteran community, attending yearly reunions, and those relationships ultimately helped him access the support he'd earned.

When a VA representative came to speak with Von's family after her father's death, he said something that stuck: Von's mother deserved full support "because she had been just as much a part of the military as my father."

Von now works with patients dealing with chronic stress and trauma, much of it rooted in family systems. Growing up as both a preacher's daughter and a disabled veteran's kid gave her what she calls inherent bedside manner for people in crisis. But it wasn't until her father's death that she understood why. "I had a whole childhood of observing trauma and my dad's system," she says.

For caregivers of veterans with PTSD, here's what to know:

Von talks now about intergenerational trauma and how what goes unhealed doesn't disappear. Her father's PTSD literally changed his brain. Von believes that understanding the ripple effects can sometimes motivate veterans to accept help.

"Maybe if they won't find care for themselves, they'll at least start to do it if they know it'll impact their children," she says.

This spring, on his birthday, Von’s father, Lieutenant Colonel James Walter Lanning, will be buried at Arlington, finally receiving the honor in death that he wouldn't claim for himself in life. For Von, the work continues, giving voice to what a five-year-old's drawing already knew: families serve together.

Helpful care-focused finds we’ve identified and researched so you don’t have to. 

Scams continue to become an increasing concern for older adults, and there still isn’t enough awareness about where to turn before things spiral. The AARP Fraud Watch Network offers free scam alerts, prevention tools, and a helpline (877-908-3360).

They focus on stopping fraud before it starts. Their guidance highlights three common red flags: an unexpected contact, a surge of emotion, and a sense of urgency. When you or Mom spots those, AARP advises taking an “active pause.”

You said it. This week’s submissions.

“I'm grateful I have the opportunity to care for my dad but it can be difficult.” 

“Mom has gained 25 pounds in memory care. Lots of cookies!”

“My mother lost her walker. How does one even do that?!” 

“Thankful when Dad says thank you instead of ordering me around.”

“Bought Mom three new blouses and she loved them - grateful!”

“On the same day I'm giving my aging parent and toddler sips of water from their sippy cups.”  

“Mom told her caregiver that she hallucinates, but knows she can trust me and that I'm a good person.”