Well, we wish we could. We really do. We also wish we could buy those of you who don't understand why we can't, a clue.
We are tethered to our cell phones like our lives depend on it. Because they do.
In September, 2001, I began carrying a cell phone with me at all times, and I do mean ALL times--to the shower, to the bathroom, to bed, outside to garden, turned to vibrate and stashed in my bra while mowing the two acres of lawn at our old house on the rider mower, or while snow blowing the 190 foot driveway in the dead of winter.
September, 2001 is burned in my memory (and yours) for a number of reasons, including the fact that my only child, my son Zach, flew off to basic training like the little eagle he was. So the tether began. It continued through his being stationed in Germany, and on to his deployment to Iraq when the answering machine message on my home phone changed to "You have reached such n such number I am not available to answer your call, please leave a message and I will call you back. Zach, if this is you I love you and call my cell phone such n such number."
Zach was always sleep-deprived and there is a pretty large time difference between here and Iraq so I wanted to be sure he had the number and I would not miss that call. Add to that the fact that my son, my only child (yes, I'm repeating this--it's part of giving you a clue) often had to stand in line for a very long time to wait his turn to make this call in conditions that you know nothing about -- 120 degree temperatures, mortars dropping in close proximity, human bombs exploding, no sleep for a day or two, yeah, just your everyday sort of conditions.
If Zach called on the home phone and missed me he always left a message before calling my cell phone. I saved every single one of those messages. Every single one. Why? Because I never knew if that would be the last time I would hear his voice. Those messages are now all I have left of my son's voice, and one day, I know, I will not be able to hear it in my head any more and then I will have those recordings to listen to. To hear, I love you Mom one more time, to hear him call me a dork for not being home...priceless.
Zach left Iraq before his unit, he returned to Germany to begin the process of coming back to the states to start training in Special Forces, what he always wanted. On January 23, 2004, two days after his return to Germany he was killed by a drunk driver.
Oh life's irony. I thought he was safe. But we are never safe are we? No.
July 2, 2007. My best friend of 25 years went to the mall and never came back. She died of an aortic aneurysm. What if I didn't answer the phone the last time she called?
October, 2007. I married the love of my life after 7 years of history together. Lt Dan was not always Lt Dan though he wanted to be, instead he deferred to his parents and went to college and got his degree, then he owned and operated a successful business. He wanted desperately to be in a position to stand for our country on September 11, 2001 and he began to put a plan in motion to liquidate his comfortable and successful life, prepare himself mentally and physically, and get on the road to becoming Lt Dan. He did discuss this with me and before he submitted his final papers I had the option of saying no. I did not.
I am still tethered and will remain so for the duration. I am apart from those I love and those who are close to me more than I am together with them. Every single moment, every conversation, no matter how mundane is precious. Every I love you at the end of every phone call is precious. Severing the tether is not an option. Military families know this best though there are many others who know this as well. Some of you don't. You haven't gotten the clue.
The present moment is all you have, it is all you are guaranteed...cherish it.
Editors note: Lest you wonder what started this little rant, it began as a thought as I was reading this at SpouseBUZZ and became anger as I was reading this over at Trying's place, about this young man. Then it just had to come out somehow. I'm proud that I didn't cuss. ;)
3 comments:
What an eloquent post. I thought sending a husband to war was tough, then I had my boys and now I'm terrified at the thought of ever having to let them go. Anywhere.
I think I was so pissed by that comment about military families because it comes from a lack of understanding of what we go thru. Just like I cant insert myself into what experiences you have faced losing a child, someone else cant pretend to understand what our lives are like when a love one is in a war zone.
I'm glad you still have the I love you's he left for you. dont ever sever that tether.
Bon, I have a bunch of saved messages from Mike too. I once erased one by accident and I nearly had a fit. I never knew how powerful the thought of "losing his voice" would be. I was overwhelmed with grief.
You are so correct. I think that most military families understand that we can not take anything for granted, especially the next call.
A couple days ago I was trying to find a voicemail message that I had saved from a coworker, but I had to go through at least a dozen saved messages from my husband first. I hadn't realized that I had saved so many, I just couldn't delete them.
As Trying said, your post is very eloquent, and should be read by everyone.
Post a Comment