The Bandaids On Our Hearts

Today I went to a memorial service for a soldier in our brigade.  I didn't know this man and neither did my husband, but after hearing the eulogies, I think we would've liked him.

He left behind a wife and four kids.

You know, it does horrible things to your heart to sit back on the homefront and watch other people's husbands die...

When you sit there in a memorial service, and you look at all the photos of the soldier and hear the kind words, you can't help but imagine what people would say about your own spouse.  How would they describe him?  What photos capture who he is?  Would a fellow soldier swallow back tears while speaking about my husband?

It is so hard for us spouses to do this, over and over, for years.  To attend these services and watch our friends and neighbors grieve.  And to constantly put ourselves in their shoes.

When Andi posted the link to another milspouse's piece on this war-weary nation, I had a hard time explaining what bothered me about the comments section over at CNN.  Many people told this wife that she wasn't special, that they too knew people serving.  And perhaps many of them did.  But did they attend the memorial services?  Did they put themselves in the widows' shoes?  Have they done this repeatedly for friends and colleagues?

Because that's what is hard.  Of course it's hard to worry about all of our troops, especially the one you care about the most.  It's just as hard if it's your nephew or your cousin.  But it's another thing to have the bandaid ripped off your heart repeatedly when you attend yet another memorial service.

It's hard to have your fences breached, as fellow milspouse Tim called it when his wife was deployed.  And this one breached several of my fences today.

It's hard to sit in that chapel and feel sorry for the wife, and then secretly grateful it isn't you in that first pew, and then guilty, and then sad again.

It's hard to have the thought that we'd better take a family photo before he deploys, because that's the one that's going to be enlarged on an easel during his memorial service.

It's hard to attend memorial services for people you've never met, just because you want to show your support.  Because it's the right thing to do.  It would be so much easier to just stay home.  But you make yourself go, and you cry because they always sound like wonderful people, and you wish you'd had the chance to meet him before he was gone.

It's hard.  And I've been lucky that it hasn't touched my life in a while.  Until today.

The bandaid has been ripped off.

Comments

[Toni]

Sarah - that was such a heartfelt post. I understand what you write. I can't tell you how many times I haven't wanted to 'endure' another military funeral. As you probably know I volunteer with Patriot Guard, each time I don't want to go on another funeral mission I go because I think it's my duty. Each time I end up shedding tears and yet my tears and emotions are nothing compared to what the families endure. The families of our Fallen are so appreciative of our attendance but it is our honor that these families have allowed us to be there in support of them and to honor the sacrifice of their fallen soldier. No matter how many funeral missions I have been on it never gets any easier yet the rewards are indescribable. I have become a better person with each funeral.

[Erin]

I've attended a lot of KIA funerals for people I didn't know through the PGR. Another Army wife I know wonders how I do it. I don't think that any of us knows what we'll really do/feel if we're in the position. I've seen wives wail, sob quietly, scream to God and their husbands, and run towards the casket when it comes off the plane. Ultimately, I am there to honor the servicemember who has given his life to serve our country, so it's not about me and what I'm feeling.

[SeabeeSeniorWife]

Sarah - very well said and thank you for this post. It is one of the hardest things to attend and yet such a privilege to be able to honor those that gave everything for our country.

[mseawright]

If tomorrow starts without me,
And I'm not there to see,
If the sun should rise and find your eyes
all filled with tears for me;

I wish so much you wouldn't cry
the way you did today,
While thinking of the many things,
We didn't get to say.

I know how much you love me,
As much as I love you,
And each time that you think of me,
I know you'll miss me too;

But when tomorrow starts without me,
Please try to understand,
that an angel came and called my name,
And took me by the hand,

And said my place was ready,
In heaven far above,
And that I'd have to leave behind
all those I dearly love.

But as I turned to walk away,
A tear fell from my eye,
For all my life, I'd always thought,
I didn't want to die.

I had so much to live for,
So much left yet to do,
it seemed almost impossible,
that I was leaving you.

I thought of all the yesterdays,
The good ones and the bad,
I thought of all that we shared,
And all the fun we had.

If I could relive yesterday,
Just even for a while,
I'd say good-bye and kiss you
and maybe see you smile.

But then I fully realized,
That this could never be,
For emptiness and memories,
would take the place of me.

And when I thought of worldly things,
I might miss some tomorrow,
I thought of you, and when I did,
My heart was filled with sorrow.

But when I walked through heaven's gates,
I felt so much at home.
When God looked down and smiled at me,
From His great golden throne,

He said, 'This is eternity,
And all I've promised you.'
Today your life on earth is past,
but here life starts anew.

I promise no tomorrow,
But today will always last,
and since each day is the same way,
There's no longing for the past.

So when tomorrow starts without me,
don't think we're far apart,
For every time you think of me,
I'm right here, in your heart

[Jessica]

What gets me is the roll call. I can get to that point with no tears. It is bad that I don't have enough fingers to count the men my husbands group has lost and now the 27th of Oct. was one more. I will go to the memorial and feel the same feelings. Sadness for that family and thankfulness it was not my husband.