We are lighting a candle tomorrow…

On facebook an event has been passed around for the entire facebook population. To light a candle on memorial day in rememberance of our Veterans, Fallen Soldiers and our Military. I am proudly doing such a thing.

Inspired by Life As Mom’s post, it brought the need to write our story. I remember Memorial Day as a kid. It always fell on the weekend of my brother’s birthday and always we had a 3 day weekend from school. My family would bbq or we could go to Knoebels (a small amusement park a short distance away). We never did anything huge to celebrate. Memorial Day was just a day off from school and as a teenager, I looked forward to that. I knew it dealt with our military but I never made a big deal of it.

I then met my husband. My husband was in the Army stationed at Fort Carson, Colorado. He was part of an artillary brigade and loved (and sometimes hated) his job. He deployed November of 2005. He was deployed for an entire year and entire year I waited in Colorado for his safe return, along with many other wives, children and families. We had no children of our own, save for the one that was growing in my belly that was my mid-tour leave gift.

I remember those days, they were long, and a constant wait. A constant wait for a letter, a phone call, and some kind of information when he finally would be coming home. I avoid the news, not wanting to scare myself but kept myself informed of what was going on over-seas as best as I could. For my husband, he describes his days as short, hot, and busy. He still remembers all too clearly how walking outside of his hooch (sleeping quarters) into a dry heat that felt like a blow dry on high constantly in his face. Setting out to do patrols outside of the safety of the base and to return to attempt to get online or make a phone call back home.

Back then, everyone had Myspace and Facebook was barely heard of. The guys who were overseas would occasionally put photos up and most of them were of something to laugh about. I remember fondly a photo that was put up of a sheep. They named him Matt Damon because they said when he ‘bahhed’ it sounded like he was saying ‘Matt Damon’. Us wives thought they we’re all delirious, that the heat must be getting to them. But it was good to know that our men still could find something to laugh about.

And then would come the time where laughter could not be found. 3 days, sometimes 7 days would pass without a single word. Us wives would call each other daily to see if anyone had heard from their husband or anyone at all. Once the 3rd day passed with no word, a quiet understanding would come. Someone passed or was gravely injured overseas. Whenever this happened the men we’re not allowed to call home or use the internet because the Military as a whole wanted to make sure to contact the families before it began to spread by word of mouth. And while I detested these times of not hearing from my own husband, I was understanding. When those stretches would come, a paranoia would come with it that I’d have someone knocking on my own door to break the news, or a friend would have it happen to them. If something happened to my husband I would want to know directly from his NCO’s not from a neighbor down the street.

These occurances became somewhat of the norm. Quite a few times followed by a funeral procession on the military base. None of them directly affected us or friends for quite sometime. Another stretch came for 7 days. And while that paranoia was there, I didn’t think much of it. ‘No my husband is alright, it can’t be him’ I remember telling myself every time. 7 days passed and I finally got a phone call from my husband. I was so grateful to hear his voice, as I was every time but it was different this time. His veichle had been blown up. He was okay, not badly injured but two of our friends we’re lost. That was when it hit home hard. I kept back my tears on the phone but I remember when I hung up with him, I let everything come out. I cried and I prayed. I prayed for our friends who we’re on their way to see God, I prayed for their families and I prayed for my husband. I prayed long and hard.

I attended two military funerals shortly after that call and I’ll never get the image of the flag passed to the wives and mothers. I remember thinking to myself, ‘How can a flag possibly ever replace this loss?’ It is quite simple. It can’t. But the flag is given in rememberance. As a memorial. As a gift from the military for the service these men performed. For signing that paper giving everything up to and no less than their lives for our country. That these men, while they have passed on, will always be remembered by their country, their friends, their loved ones.

My husband returned from his deployment fairly unharmed. He was diagnosed with PTSD shortly after his return and will never see another deployment again. But again, his mental illness, is another reminder of the hardship of war. That when memorial day comes around, we need to remember and remember for the rest of the year what many brave men and women give up year after year.

I am forever grateful to the men and women who serve our country. Who fight for our freedom and what we believe is right. Who go to war, possibly with a million questions as to why, but serve their country relentlessly despite their political beliefs.

My husband and I are no longer active military. He is an Operation Iraqi Freedom Vet and I, a Army Wife Veteran. Our closest friends still remain those that we met during my husband’s time in service and our hearts are still very much military oriented and focused on our friends who still serve. We will NEVER forget. And we will ALWAYS remember.

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