Wednesday, March 3, 2010
BUTTERFLIES.
Friday, February 26, 2010
breathing.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Paying respects. With the tears.
“Comfortable” by John Mayer played on my iPod as I sat and watched. I don’t even know them. They gave their goodbyes to their beloved boy dressed in army green. It had to have been a goodbye for a very, very long time. Perhaps until the next life. I walked to my gate, and the first sight I saw was the beautiful wife being cradled by her heroic husband. Daughter on lap. Wet cheeks. Puffy eyes. Holding hands. Saying nothing.
The little girl was strikingly beautiful. She had to have been four or five years old, with dark skin, curly pigtails, and these bright green eyes, glassy from ongoing tears. I don’t know how much her parents talked about her father’s heart-wrenching departure prior to the airport, for I overheard the mother trying to explain why he may not be coming back. “But why, Mommy? Daddy, why won’t you come back?”
Daddy kissed his little girl. And cried.
Two more people showed up to say goodbye. It had to be his mother and brother. They looked just like him. The mother held his daughter, and everyone’s tears flowed.
Never was an announcement to board a plane so emotional. The employees simply reacted to the announcement by sluggishly attending their duties. Flyers reacted by trying to cut and butt in line. But there they stood. Four loved ones saying goodbye.
Brother hug brother.
Son hug mother.
Father hug daughter.
Husband hug wife.
The future holds so many questions.
Will he return home?
Will the wife fall in love again?
Will the daughter ever have another father figure?
Will the family grow stronger? Or become crippled?
Will the daughter have a father to dance with at her wedding?
With my head down, walking behind the soldier, I kept my eyes on the back of his feet, slowly putting one in front of the other. I heard him quivering as he took in a deep breath. He didn’t look back. I peeked over my shoulder to see the abandoned family at the edge of the gate. They stood as a pack
watching
Watching
Watching.
As I walked down the aisle to my seat, my heart was on fire, pounding and pumping blood through my whole body as I fast-forwarded the scene I had just witnessed in my head. My tears were on their knees begging to come streaming to my face, but I did all I could to keep them from showing. When I took my seat by the window, I glanced outside and saw the family the soldier had just left. Pressed against the glass at the gate, the daughter was waving her miniscule hands, using all of her energy to catch her dad’s attention. Her mother stood behind her, leaning forward on a chair, squinting to find her loved one in one of the airplane’s windows. It must have been easy to locate where he was because within a moment she motioned for his mother and brother. Without hesitation, the whole clan was against the glass in perfect view of their soldier. The aircraft slowly began to pull out of the gate. I could not see him or his reaction, but the women were continuously waving and wiping tears as his brother sat with his fist in the air, honoring his brother.
And I cried.
I don’t know his name.
But he’s my hero.
To the men and women fighting for our country. God bless you and your families. Forever.