I am going about my usual business this morning, listening to the news on the TV with about a half an ear and an even lesser percentage of my mind when the newsperson announces,"A roadside bomb killed three U. S. soldiers this morning,..."
Everything stops!
"Where?"
"Where?" my mind screams, now on full alert.
"in Northwestern Pakistan," the announcer continues.
"Oh good," my mind thinks. "Far away from Iraq or Kuwait where Matt is."
A few seconds later my heart catches up and I realize for thousands of soldiers' loved ones the hell of this day is just starting.
Every Mom and Dad wonders if one of the fallen soldiers is their son or daughter.
Every wife and husband wonders if one of them is their husband or wife.
Every daughter and son wonders if one is their Mom or Dad.
Every sister and brother wonders if one is their brother or sister.
Every grandmother and grandfather wonders if one is their grandaughter or grandson.
Every boyfriend and girlfriend wonders if one is their girlfriend or boyfriend.
Every friend wonders if one is their friend.
For most of us the day will end with relief, elation and a little guilt that we feel this way.
For the loved ones of the three heroes, their everlasting heartache is just beginning.
And this is the dance we do.
Everyday.
Vaya Con Dios
Go With God.
P. S. The above picture is my son, Matt, who is currently serving in the Air Force in Kuwait driving supplies through Iraq, my grandson, Landon, and my daughter-in-law, Chantel. Chantel is also in the Air Force and was stationed in Afghanistan last year.
1 comment:
I don't know how you could stand it. IT must have been absolute torture. You gave him a sense of responsibility, courage, and honor, and so he served his country. That had to have made you proud, but how absolutely terrifying. I am so glad he's back. ~ lynette
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