Not Taking it for Granted

There are so many little things that you take for granted.

Following your favorite teams.  Sharing those experiences with those you love.  Especially sharing those moments in the forms of instant communication that are available now.

Got to do that again this week.  Pretty cool moment to realize, hey, the Marine Corps gave him back!  I can do this again!

So many things can happen in the world. I am reminded of that again this week.  Of close calls and almosts.

I am grateful for all the little moments.

And all the moments I get to enjoy again with the ones that I love.

Go USA!

Welcome Home

With a deep sigh of relief:
Welcome Home, Marine.

Welcome Home.

Oh, how we have missed you.

Empty Seat

Recently I had a birthday.  I had a great time with friends and family.  Enjoyed a lunch and dinner at two of my favorite places to eat.  Mostly I felt blessed by all the people I get to share life with.

However, the worst part of deployments are the empty seats where your loved one should be.  It is the second birthday that Bestie has missed because he is in a war zone.  He's missed several more being stationed across the country.  At the dinner and when we were goofing off and telling stories that night, I had fun.  I enjoyed myself.  But I still felt like his presence was missing in the whole affair.

I wish he could have been there to share in our fun and have some of the AMAZING cake that Sandy baked for me.  But he did what he could.  My heart was lifted by a slightly garbled phone call from far away and a energetic birthday wish from him.  Getting to here him and have him sound good is an excellent birthday gift, if he cannot be here to share the fun.

I am also aware in these moments, of those families whose empty seat was never filled.   My heart hurts for them in the knowledge that they won't get even the phone calls any longer.

Again, I am reminded of how blessed I am.

Continuing and Beginning Again

Bestie is back is the sand.

The weight that I felt lift when he called and said he was out of the country and on his way home for leave has settled again on my shoulders. I am sad that he is back there, away from his wife and all of us who love him. I am already miss not being able to pick up the phone and harass him with the the trivial details of my day.

War is freaking painful.

I spend a lot of time trying not to think about the possibilities and the emotions. I want to ignore risk, fear, and the ache that settles somewhere in my heart. The one that will persist until he leaves Afghan airspace for good and touches down on US soil.

At the same time, it is easier this time than other times. Maybe I have toughened up. Maybe it is just a internal protection mechanism that makes me think that. Maybe it is because I know he has more support this time around and that makes a substantial difference.

What I do know is that even if it is easier, it still hurts.

The lump in my throat as I told him to "travel safe" as he prepared to reenter bad guy land was the size of a softball.

That hasn't changed.

He is my best friend. My brother. I love him and want him to be safe. To be happy. To not carry the weight that I hear in his voice.

We are halfway done.

So much time has passed.

Yet so much remains before this one comes to a close.

Miss you brother bear.

Be safe.

WTF Moments Bestie Missed List

2. Elvis is on the escalator. Really. White jumpsuit. Beer gut. Sideburns. Too much hair gel. The King lives.

WTF Moments Bestie Missed

I will be so happy when Bestie is back and I can just pull out the cell to text him about all the ridiculous things that happen in day to day life.

Nothing funnier then getting halfway through a text before going CRAP! Yep, he's not going to get that. After all, what is a Bestie for if not to be the person one texts when they need to quote random movies or share the most ridiculous things they've just seen at the mall.

Instead of just joking about it, I am actually starting it now in honor of all the stupid things he has missed that just have to be shared. That way, he has a record of them to read over when he is bored.

This is for you, Bestie:

The Best WTF Moments You Missed List:

1. Location--Mall. Situation: Epic Mullet.

You know the ones. Beer gut. Sleeveless shirt. Burt Reynolds circa 1970 in the front. Billy Ray circa Achy Breaky Heart in the back. Two-toned even. Brunette with a little bit of blond highlight. Epic.

Distance

It is easy to forget just how long a deployment is.

In the last few weeks the length of this seems never ending.

I don't know how to explain it other than to say it is the distance. A lot changes in the course of a week, a month, six months. 365+ days? Wow.

I try to keep him updated on the day to day happenings of my life. Sometimes it is easier than others, depending on how regular the contact is. But it is hard to decide what to share and what to leave out. How to pick and choose what is noteworthy, or exciting, or funny when he wasn't here to share it? Is it still noteworthy, exciting, or funny now?

I send the notes. I pack up the care packages. I am on a first name basis with the people at both the post office and B-Dubs--gotta send the sauce, ya know?

I think I got spoiled on the last one because it was shorter. We both feel the distance more this time, both geographically and emotionally. He has much less time to check in. I have a lot going. It all leads to distance.

He summed it up best: ."... it's just... easier to remain disconnected to a point?"

Sometimes it is easier to pull back. Try and forget (not possible) where he is and what he is doing. I am sure it is the same for him--easier to put some distance between his current world and home.

The acute feeling of distance makes it more apparent that someone I love, my family, my brother, isn't around.

It miss him.

Be safe Brother Bear, I'm thinking of you.

103 Days

We are now 4 months, about 103 Days into this deployment. It always amazes me how much time really goes by and how many things change in that time. I know I try to keep Bestie updated on the happenings on this end, as does the Bestie-in-Law on hers, and he to us and his dad, but there is no way to cover everything. Our worlds keep turning. So many significant changes have already occurred since he left.

He misses his wife deeply, with an intensity that at times has surprised him. He says deployment is significantly different with a spouse waiting at home. He wishes he could keep her from worrying and wishes he were there to take care of the life little challenges, like fixing the truck and sorting out problems with the phone company. So much of deployment is distance and fear of the changes distance can lead to.

Overall, Bestie has had a better couple of weeks and I am happy to report that communications have been more consistently restored.

Bestie and Co. are recovering from the large fire that broke out at the main base last week. It is very fortunate that no one was killed or severely injured in the attack, though supplies were lost. After the recent attacks in Bagram, I am thankful that he is safe. Like many people, I want to create an image of the bigger bases as being invincible, but this is another reminder that nowhere at war is completely safe.

Bestie is trying to remain focused on the future to remind himself that this deployment is only temporary. He has asked for music theory workbooks to be sent to him so he can begin preparing for life after the Marines. He is working with the Bestie-in-Law on plans for their church wedding and his mid tour R &R.

He has been a great encouragement to me in the past week after some difficulties. There is nothing like knowing your best friend has your back. It is even more comforting when that Bestie happens to be well armed at the time he is offering assistance. Just adds a little extra something.

As in Iraq, music is his outlet and his way of filtering and processing things. This past week, he sent the lyrics of a Camera Can't Lie song. He had a chance to see them open a Straylight Run show before deploying.

Since he sent it, I haven't been able to turn it off. It really applies to all of us who are counting the days. For the extended military family, there are always days to count, be it towards leaving, towards coming home, towards getting out, getting better, or something else.

I am counting the days until my best friend comes home. Counting the days until I call him up whenever I want to talk about the important things in my life. Counting the days until he is reunited with his wife and they can begin the next chapter of their lives together. I am counting the days until my cousin joins him in Afghanistan. I am counting the days until Memorial Day, when I will head to Will's grave to remember and count the days since he was KIA. I am counting the days since Pfc. Gunnar Becker was killed-- a young man who taught me the meaning of sacrifice.

I am counting the days since I sent my first letter to a soldier at war, since I got my first response, since I made my first friend who was fighting a war.

One hundred and three days have passed since the Afghan Adventure began. Two hundred sixty two days, give or take, remain, God-willing, until it is over.

Days and Days- Camera Can't Lie

I've been missing you for days and days
I don't know how much this heart can take
A kinda feeling you can't explain
Like I'm lost along the way
Like I'm lost along the way
Come take me home
And unchain my soul
You could break my heart
If it meant that you would never be alone
Come take me home

I've been thinking about this game we play
Its a silly thing with much at stake
I don't know why we choose this pain
Without you I'm lost along the way
Without you I'm lost along the way

So, come take me home
Unchain my soul
And you can break my heart
If it meant that you would never be alone
just take me home, home
Just take me home, home
Just take me home, home

Come take me home
Unchain my soul
And you could break my heart
if it meant that you would never be alone
Come take me home
I've been missing you for days and days
I don't know how much this heart can take.

Troops Who Fade

Bestie has had a tough couple of weeks. If you pray, now is a good time to send up some words to encourage his spirit.

"I'm pretty sure I'm reaching the breaking point emotionally... mentally..."

The things that cross his path, every Marine's path, are things that haunt. Washing the blood out of a Marine brother out of a vehicle. Analyzing the aftermath of a battle in an outpost somewhere. The devastation war brings to the innocents...and the not so innocent. Traveling the roads, limbs pulled close to body armor, like a turtle, waiting...waiting...waiting to be hit. Shoot? Don't shoot? Take a mission? Send a subordinate...what if he is wounded or killed and it should have been me? Saluting the bodies, the flag-covered transfer cases of Marines and ISAF as they begin their final journey home....

All things we would protect our loved ones from if we could. All things, if we are honest, we want to protect ourselves from.

Isn't that why most Americans switch the channel when the war comes on? Can we be bothered to look through the window at their lives?

The Afghan Adventure is moments of terror, ugliness, and fear. Then it is long days, weeks of repetition. Same bad food. Same clothes. Same scenery. Same ache of missing family and home and friends. A roller-coaster of ups and downs. It is the slowly shutting down of emotions and humanity in order to get from one day to the next. To get home.

Wilfred Owen, Eugene Sledge, and a hundred other soldiers have said it..."Compassion for the sufferings of others is a burden to those who have it...those who feel the most for others suffer most in war." E.B. Sledge, With the Old Breed

Insensibility:

I
Happy are men who yet before they are killed
Can let their veins run cold.
Whom no compassion fleers
Or makes their feet
Sore on the alleys cobbled with their brothers.
The front line withers.
But they are troops who fade, not flowers,
II
And some cease feeling
Even themselves or for themselves.
Dullness best solves
The tease and doubt of shelling,
And Chance's strange arithmetic
Comes simpler than the reckoning of their shilling.
They keep no check on armies' decimation.

III
Happy are these who lose imagination:
They have enough to carry with ammunition.

Bestie has compassion in spades...

War is helplessness. There is a nothing a person can do back here for their best friend or their spouse but pray. Send a package. Send a letter. Hope that it raises his spirits. Hope that it eases your own fear for that person. Hope it eases your own desire to take away their pain, their struggle, in some way. Because you cannot see his face, or hear his voice, you cannot tell if he is feeling better after venting, or still struggling. Somehow, you must make peace with the helplessness.

"One of the LCpls is singing the 'Oompa Loompa song from Willy Wonka and the chocolate factory. The movies got the soundtrack all wrong. War isn't rock...war is nursery rhymes, TGIF theme songs, and Nirvana tracks. War is the music from your childhood. " Chris Ayers, War Reporting for Cowards

War is the tv shows that acted as your babysitters. Marines gathered around a laptop watching Boy Meets World, crying when Chet abandons Shawn. Laughing at the cherry bomb episode. Fee-eee-heeneey!!! calls. Back to a time without war, without worry.

"Because war, when it's not making you kill or be killed, turns you into an infant." ..even as it turns you into a man.

3 Months down.

Bestie's Adventures

Bestie is now well over two months into his deployment. He has settled into the routine and his responsibilities. I have actually had a chance to talk to him for a couple of lengthy periods of time recently, which was comforting. We talked about the things all best friends talk about-relationships, worries, future plans, our favorite childhood tv show, the current projects of our favorite bands.

Then, as is inevitable, we turned into us. We discussed Lt. Col. Grossman's book On Killing: the Psychological Cost of Learning to Kill in War and Society. It is one of his favorites and I had just finished rereading it. It served as a segue into more serious topics, like "how are you." The answer is, as good as can be expected. He talked about doing missions and standing guard. The potential of orders that could end the lives . He of the responsibilities of his job and its outcomes. He spoke of courage and cowardice. He stated offhandedly that he doesn't feel much of anything out there in the way of emotion, just numb.

Delia Falconer wrote in The Last Thoughts of Soldiers, "There was a part of his soul that would always stay out on the plains. It was so frozen he thought a little bit had been torn off." These are heavy burdens we ask our men and women in the military to shoulder. And we ask them to take them up again and again. Then we ask them do it one more time. To paraphrase Sgt Cruz-- What is a Marine? His uniform? His stature? A Marine is a human being, a man or woman--one asked to do extraordinary things, and then move on from them. Robert Leckie wrote in his WWII memoir, Helmet for My Pillow, " It is to sacrifice that men go to war. They do not go to kill, they go to be killed, to risk their flesh, to insert their precious persons in the path of destruction." What then, do we owe these men who have inserted their precious persons into the mountains and plains of Afghanistan and now risk their flesh on our behalf, on our request? We owe them a debt we cannot pay. We owe them our attention. We listen to their stories with compassion, not judgment. We send the letters and Ring Pops when requested. We take a moment of our day to read or write these dispatches so our friend overseas knows that we remember him. That we love him. That he is not invisible, nor has he disappeared. We read, and write, and send to reassure him that he is still in our hearts and minds. And that we will be there for him when he returns home.

Go Colts

Can't wait for the Colts game today.

Talked to the bestie last night. First time I've really gotten to talk to him for any length of time in the past couple of weeks. The Marines are keeping him crazy busy in final prep for the deployment.

But there is always time for football. We are both rabid Colts fans. Hoping they do better than they have in previous playoff games and that the whole resting the starters drama doesn't come back to bite us.

Bestie says to wear the Freeney jersey for this game, so #93 it is.

Go Colts!

The Ticking Clock

Happy New Year.

I have found a corner away from the celebrating going on at my house...a quiet little place to be in the moment.

Tomorrow, I will wake up and enjoy my day off. I will enjoy my family and laugh with them. But in this moment, I am sad. I have just said goodbye to the best friend and the best friend-in- law. They are leaving early tomorrow to go back to the base across the country.

It is the last time I will see him until 2011.

It was the last time I got to see him, got to hug him, before he goes back to war. Afghan-style this time.

Since he arrived, the clock has been counting down to this moment. Never audible, but always ticking. During every board game, every video game, every movie, every laugh, every toast, every meal, during every moment- the clock was ticking.

There is never enough time to do all that you want to do, to say all the words you want to say...

It has been about 20 minutes since I said goodbye.

I have decided that it wasn't any easier this time than the last time. My heart hurts just the same. I feel a little nauseous. I feel the same pressure behind my eyes from tears that want to fall, if only I would let them. One or two may have snuck out, but I'll never admit to it if you ask. I feel apprehensive and raw. If I was willing to admit it, I'd also say I was feeling a little scared.

War ripples, like a stone dropped in a lake.

I think war has a physical weight you can actually feel if you are paying enough attention. Maybe it is the result of all the stones that gather at the bottom of the lake....

The Marines and Uncle Sam are about to borrow my best friend for a year. He is a lot of things in this world. Among them, he is a husband, a son, a brother, a daddy to a new kitty who he adores, a musician, a gamer, an Operation Iraqi Freedom veteran, a bearer of the title United States Marine.

Each of these things is important, if only a partial list.

But to me, he is the best friend in the whole world. He is the keeper of my secrets, the sharer of my history. He is the ear I borrow when I have a tale to tell. He is my partner in crime and provider of near-death experiences. He is compassionate and reliable when I need him, and also tells me the hard truths when I need to hear those. He listens without judgment. He shares my eclectic taste in music and love for Ring Pop candy. He threatens to (quite possible does) background check my dates, just to be sure. He is the person I call when I am full of excitement. He is the person I call when I am pissed off and need to vent. He is the person I rode my first rollercoaster with.

He is not expendable, nor replaceable.

If it is not too much to ask, USMC, please return him in the condition he was lent...

It would make my heart hurt a whole lot less.