My nephew is a Marine. He’s wanted to be a Marine since he was about 10 years old. It’s all he ever talked about.
Last night he got on a bus to begin a journey that will take him more than 7,000 miles away to Afghanistan.
Yeah… THAT Afghanistan.
I have a knot in my stomach. It’s not nearly as big as the knots in KK’s or her hubby’s or their other sons’ stomachs. But it’s still there. I mean, Dan isn’t old enough to hoist a beer to celebrate here at home… well, not legally at least (I remember your graduation party, Dan)… but abroad, as part of the 1st Battalion, 9th Marines, he’s going to be called on to do… who knows what.
Back in March during a training exercise in Nevada, 7 Marines were killed when a mortar exploded at the wrong time. It was Dan’s Battalion that was training there. KK’s Hubby texted Dan when he heard about the explosion but he heard nothing back. All anyone heard was that 7 Marines were killed. It was almost 11 pm when Dan finally reached his dad & let him know he was okay but those hours of nothing were nauseating. And again… I’m just the aunt. I can’t imagine being the parent. As a friend whose husband is currently deployed at sea told me tonight, “The way you felt when you didn’t know where Dan was in Nevada? You’ll feel that way every time you watch the news & hear something about a problem in Afghanistan.”
I suppose I will. I suppose we all will. I have a feeling it will be like a dull ache that never quite goes away but that you can forget about in rare moments.
The Kids & I went shopping tonight to put together a care package. My Navy wife friend gave me lots of good tips & we’ll be shipping something out to Afghanistan later this week. I figure it’s the least we can do to support the efforts of someone who has willingly put himself in harm’s way.
And now all we can do is pray. And wait for him to come home.
God speed, Daniel.