I can’t recall a time when I have felt so empty. I keep trying to think back to September 11th. I remember sitting on the couch with my boyfriend and watching in horror. The silence between us was thick, and the words “How could this have happened?” pushed against both our minds.
Then, a year later, we stood at ground zero with the same words churning and flowing out of our mouths. “Those poor people.” I remember the pain and remember wondering about their fear. It made my chest heavy to imagine that kind of loss. I tried to put myself in their shoes. Tried to imagine how horrific that moment was for everyone there.
On Thursday, November 5, 2009, I again stood in front of a television. Now, that boyfriend wears a ring on his left hand, and he continues to fight in wars that began that fateful day in September. Thursday, I watched in horror as soldiers carried their buddies on stretchers, images of faces lost began to fill the screen, and immediate news coverage took over every television station.
But this time was different. This time I wondered again how something like this could happen. But it was no longer, “those poor people.” It was my sister, my brother, and my fellow fighter.
I spent yesterday racked with pain in my gut, tears falling from my eyes, and my heart full of some action that needed to be taken. But what? All I have, all I ever have, are words. And how could words possibly help?
I contacted an editor of a newspaper in some hope of doing something. Anything. Her interest was obvious. She was happy to have someone from the “inside” on the line. “Are you there at Fort Hood?” she asked. I knew she could hear my trembling voice. Hear the obvious pain.
“No. I am not,” I answered. “Oh,” she said, disappointed. At first I couldn’t understand why that mattered. And then, as the day progressed, it began to dawn on me. For someone outside this, it makes no sense for this to hurt me.
I kept pushing myself to analyze this. Why am I so broken? This wasn’t my base. Wasn’t my husband. These weren’t my friends.
Or were they?
I kept searching for an answer. Am I just deployment crazy right now? Unreasonably emotional? Taking things way too personally?
Or, has it finally seeped in for me?
If my husband can leave his family behind, the loves of his life, to die for a stranger’s freedom, why is it impossible for me to love a stranger that deeply? Another woman who has been beside me for the past six years? Another woman who has worn my shoes, said my goodbyes, held my children’s hands. The very same woman who could meet my eye and understand this struggle. No words spoken.
Why isn’t it possible for every single military member in the world to mourn right now, cry, writhe in pain, and grieve right along with them? They are our brothers. Our sisters. Our confidantes. Our core. Our strength.
I had to look no further than military chat rooms to find my pain, my frustration, my fear, and my love pouring out of every person affiliated with the military. We aren’t on the outside. None of us.
And as I look now to Fort Hood, where all our hearts are gathered, our minds connected, our spirits kindred, I see the very courage, valor, and love that unites us in the soft glow of candlelight.
Fort Hood, no matter if no one else can understand, we grieve with you. Beside you. For you. I only wish you knew how much each and every one of us loves you, even if we have never met you. And I do love you. More than I ever could have imagined.
We are a strong community. We step up when we need to and we do our best to comfort each other when times are hard. We will continue to do so. We will pick each other up and we will survive. We will mourn the loss of our brave soldiers. We will turn toward their families and offer all we can.
We as military spouses rely on each other in many ways. We watch each others kids. We take each other to the hospital. We clean each others houses. We invite one another to dinner on the holidays that we would otherwise be spending alone. We are happy for each other when our husbands return safely from war. We also cry for and with one another when they don’t. We find strength in each other.
I want to hear about the person who gave you a bit of strength when you needed it.
