My mother had more than once remarked that my father was one of the war's casualties, that the Sam Hall who came back wasn't the one who left, the one she'd fallen in love with. I didn't doubt that she believed this certain truth, or even that it was true, after a fashion. But it was a nice way of ignoring another simple truth--that people changed, with or without wars, and that we sometimes don't know people as well as we think we do, that the worst errors in judgment often result from imagining we understand what has escaped us entirely.
The narrator reflects on his mother's belief that the war irrevocably altered his father, Sam Hall, implying that the man who returned was a shadow of the man she once loved. This view suggests a deep emotional truth regarding the impact of trauma, but it also serves to sidestep a more universal reality: people change over time regardless of external circumstances, including war.
This acknowledgment of change highlights the complexity of human relationships and our perceptions of others. We often think we fully understand those close to us, yet our judgments can be clouded by assumptions about their identities. Life experiences, whether monumental or mundane, shape individuals in ways that might elude us.
