“Dear J :) -
It’s been 68 days since I last saw your smile. 68 days since I slept well.
I’m so proud of you for serving your country and all that you’ve done. You are my hero. The one who makes me want to wake up everyday and do all the mundane tasks I have to do.
It’s about to be my senior year, and all I can think about is how much you should be here. Your freshmen year of college. I cant help but think you’d be completely bored with all of this. You were destined for great things. I know that you are out there keeping us all safe. You’re keeping safe the moms, daughters, fathers and sons who are walking up and down the street. You’re defending the honor of military before you.
You are my reason for being strong.
I’ve been wearing your replica dog tags around my neck everywhere - even when I go to the hospital to visit Henry*. He asked about you. The surgery was successful, and they think he will be able to go home soon. Can you imagine having cancer at such a young age? I’m praying for the both of you.
Tell Scott* to keep protecting you. I’ve been watching the news every night to make sure you both are ok.
I had dinner at your parents house today. They are incredibly proud of you too. Your picture in your dress blues sits on top of the coffee table. I have the same one on my nightstand - I see it when I wake up, and right before I go to sleep.
You are my hero. Always remember that.
I love you. Always and forever.”
One week later, Scott was killed in action.
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This blog is meant to make you laugh. To cry. To smile until it hurts. To reflect, engage and understand - because we have all been there. Love that has saved you. Love that has made you yearn for more. Love that has taught you.
I’ll be sharing my story along the way, but encourage you to share yours as well. All will be anonymou, so feel free to pick a name to attribute it to. If you’re brave and ok with being public, do that as well.
As for me? Well, it all started before a day that was destined for the history books.
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Remember that feeling of being 16? You’re on the brink of something, but can’t put your finger on it. That summer I had not a care in the world, other than making myself go to work as a lifeguard everyday. Summers were hot, and kids were crazy. Typical.
I remember being angry because I had to go sub for one of my lackluster type employees - being the OCD assistant manager was taking its toll. We had a guard working with me from another pool, and the only thing I knew about him was that his name was Jimmy.* He was 17 and in my eyes, perfect. Jimmy had that air of sweet confidence about him - muscular, but had taken on the world. And, he had. Throughout the day, I learned tidbits about him - his birth mom abandoned him to die before he was adopted; his ex had broken his heart; but he was one of the most personable and smart guys I knew.
Our courtship was typical of a summer romance: sweet dates at the movies or Mexican restaurants, slow walks around my neighborhood, even a fun night of shopping cart bowling at Wal-mart.
Then, 9/11 happened.
I remember that I was in journalism class when the first tower was hit. I called Jimmy, as he was leaving his college class. I remember being stunned. And I remember that day, two weeks later, when my boyfriend told me he had enlisted for the Marines.
I was so proud of him. That intense sense of patriotism that everyone felt wasn’t lost on me. I just prayed every night that he would come home safely. I held my breath every time the news came on, fingers crossed that he wasn’t dead.
The excruciating pain of never knowing if he was dead or alive while serving in Iraq still haunts me to this day. We’d go a few months without talking to each other - and at times, I’d give up my precious 10 minutes of phone time so he could call his mom. Letters were our main form of communication - and I wrote long ones.
Letters are truly a long lost art. And I always started mine with, “J :)” because that was us.
Until next time.
