Kerry's base was hit by a rocket last week. Two soldiers were killed and six injured.
Luckily, Kerry was the one who told me about it. I didn't see it on the news and then worry, worry, worry until I heard he was okay. I already knew he was all right before I knew there had been an incident.
But......
After we talked, I looked up the info on the Internet. It was front-page news. Top story of the day. I read about it and a wave of nausea took over. I couldn't believe how sick I felt even though I knew he was all right.
It's hard knowing they are in danger. It's hard knowing other people are getting the news on what is about to become the worst day of their lives. There are parents, spouses, sibling, children whose entire lives are changed from this day on.
It's hard knowing that could still be me, any day.
I've been very complacent about this deployment. He's on a very secure base and he doesn't take convoys to other bases all the time like he did during his last deployment. I've felt very secure that he is safe and will be home soon.
That rocket really shook me up.
Kerry said it shook all of them up too. He said they all felt fairly safe and secure and this reminded them that they are in a war, actually.
I finally overcame the nausea but then the tears kept popping up for a couple of days. It's hard not to imagine what could happen. I try not to think about it usually, no good ever came of imagining a horrible scenario and stressing myself out.
But my brain doesn't know this and while I can control what I'm thinking about in the day time, at night my mind decides to visit these horrors on me.
I had a dream that I was in a room full of folding chairs with blue seats with a chaplain and an officer in dress greens. They had just told me that Kerry had been killed. Then (because even in my sleep, my mind will not accept this) Kerry walked in to the room full of folding chairs with blue seats (what was THAT all about?) and told me that it was a mistake, he wasn't dead after all.
The next morning Kerry called on Skype and I was tearfully telling him about my dream.
His exact words: "Yeah, but how did I look in the dream? Was I all buff and sexy? Because in my dreams, I've been working out."
Bless him, for making me laugh even when I'm crying.
Luckily, Kerry was the one who told me about it. I didn't see it on the news and then worry, worry, worry until I heard he was okay. I already knew he was all right before I knew there had been an incident.
But......
After we talked, I looked up the info on the Internet. It was front-page news. Top story of the day. I read about it and a wave of nausea took over. I couldn't believe how sick I felt even though I knew he was all right.
It's hard knowing they are in danger. It's hard knowing other people are getting the news on what is about to become the worst day of their lives. There are parents, spouses, sibling, children whose entire lives are changed from this day on.
It's hard knowing that could still be me, any day.
I've been very complacent about this deployment. He's on a very secure base and he doesn't take convoys to other bases all the time like he did during his last deployment. I've felt very secure that he is safe and will be home soon.
That rocket really shook me up.
Kerry said it shook all of them up too. He said they all felt fairly safe and secure and this reminded them that they are in a war, actually.
I finally overcame the nausea but then the tears kept popping up for a couple of days. It's hard not to imagine what could happen. I try not to think about it usually, no good ever came of imagining a horrible scenario and stressing myself out.
But my brain doesn't know this and while I can control what I'm thinking about in the day time, at night my mind decides to visit these horrors on me.
I had a dream that I was in a room full of folding chairs with blue seats with a chaplain and an officer in dress greens. They had just told me that Kerry had been killed. Then (because even in my sleep, my mind will not accept this) Kerry walked in to the room full of folding chairs with blue seats (what was THAT all about?) and told me that it was a mistake, he wasn't dead after all.
The next morning Kerry called on Skype and I was tearfully telling him about my dream.
His exact words: "Yeah, but how did I look in the dream? Was I all buff and sexy? Because in my dreams, I've been working out."
Bless him, for making me laugh even when I'm crying.
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