In war, memories pile like bricks. Hold them too long, and they set like concrete.
U.S. Air Force veteran Brian Honett spent thirteen years offering open arms. He helped his unit release the trauma before they could process the horror. As military chaplain, he needed to be near. Always ready to lift the burden from his comrades.
Deploying to dangerous places, he stood by those in shock. And back home, he delivered words that stopped time. Wives, mothers, fathers, husbands—their loved ones weren’t coming home.
A lighthouse in the storm. A listening ear. Brick by brick, he took the weight from those who needed him. He stood strong. Able to carry it all.
Until he retired, feeling buried beneath the pain. He needed somewhere to unload the trauma before it set. Hardened.
“There was so much transition going on in my life,” Brian says. “I was really struggling with the PTSD.”
Just as the layers of memories settled deep, service dog Dee stirred something new. A way forward. With Dee by his side, he steps into a new kind of service—as a fourth-grade teacher.
Eyes still look to him for answers. Small hands reach for reassurance. And he remains a place of calm.
“Just having her there with me helps me relax,” he says. “She brings such a level of comfort and peace that I couldn’t find for a long time.”
While standing by the chalkboard may be worlds away from standing on the frontlines, Brian now walks with a steady companion, one who teaches him that some weights are meant to be shared. No battlefield. No chaplain’s uniform—just a man, a dog, and a classroom full of young lives.
“Dee’s been so much more than I could have ever expected,” he says.
And now, brick by brick, she’s not just helping him build new memories—she’s helping him heal.
New moments.
New purpose.
Not just freedom.
Peace.
