Today is a sad day.
My oldest, dearest friend is being deployed to Afghanistan. My awesome big brother is at it again. Being a hero.
So I write a post dedicated to how awesome he truly is.
He was my very first friend.
We two started out life thick as thieves. We were each other’s first playmates and
co-conspirator. He even cut my hair while
my poor young mother tried to get a shower with two toddlers at home.
We were both blessed with over active imaginations. There was never a dull moment with the two of
us. The number of made up games we
played were endless. Movie Theater,
trampoline world, roller blade land, pioneers indians and aliens (so naming
games were not our forte) were some of my favorites.
Through the years we grew and developed. I became a little mom, always trying to
control everyone, and Mike stayed a free spirit who was willing to please. We made a great pair.
As we entered high school we grew apart, but it was
okay. We had different life paths at the
time and our goals were vastly different.
But none of that really mattered, because I still looked up to him and I
know he cared for me. Two instances
stand out to me during those years.
First would be a day we had a fire mishap at school. I was a sophomore, he a senior, and he had
the hardship/pleasure of driving us to and from school every day. That day the fire alarm went off during the
last class of the day (should I mention that for some unknown reason, kids at
my school would light things on fire and throw them into the garbage cans…backpacks,
posters, you know, whatever a teenager wanted…*que music* memories of Copper
Hills….). It was a cold day and the
school could not send us outside so they tried to usher us into the large
gym. Hahahahaha, yea right. You and I both know that everyone darted for
the door to the parking lot, fighting to get to their cars before they were
caught by the crazy hall monitors and vice principals who knew this assault was
coming. Well I was a quiet, pushover
(literally) during these days (I did not get cool until college, I know, hard
to believe). Even though my brother and
I were not all that close these days, we still had this sibling telepathy thing
going on. There was no way we were
staying in that gym. Long story short
(way too late for that) I was shoved and pushed down in the mayhem. Not only did I fall, but a very rude
man-child saw me trying to get up and chose to push me back down rather than
try and be a decent human being and help me up (oh high school). By the time I got outside my brother had the
car running pulled up to the curb waiting for me (that’s right kids, no texting
needed, we just knew this unspoken plan).
When he saw the tears rolling down my face he jumped out the car and
jogged to me. I remember him asking if I
was okay. When I told him what had happened there was a charge in him that I
had seen before, he was ready for a fight.
“Where is he? Who is he? Do you see him?” My big brother hero was ready to beat the
crap out of some kid for being a total jerk.
I convinced him to just get in the car and go home (lucky for the random
man-child). It was one of those moments
that I knew, without of a doubt, that he is on my side. He has got my back, and I can always count on
him to protect me.
The second lovely high school memory was after he had
graduated and I was senior. He had
recently joined the army but had not yet left for basic. We were on much better terms these days than
in the previous story. I had been sick
the last couple of days, but being the overly excelled person I was, I went to
school. It was like the worst day of my
high school career. I did not even go to
class, I just laid sad and pathetic on the band room floor for the whole
morning. You know when you get a really
high fever and you get the shivers and if feels like you will never get warm
again? Yeah, I was there. People would see me and just lay their coats
on me because they felt so bad. Finally
a couple of friends arranged to drive me home.
I got home and called my mom, tears streaming down my face and wrapped
in every blanket I could find. Well she
called my brother to come over and check on me.
He got there and was very much in over his head. There is not much maternal instinct in a 19
year old boy, but he felt bad for me.
After calling my mom he was instructioned to get me some ibprophin and
water. Well I was freezing and tangled
beyond hope in a million blankets. So he
just dropped the pill in my mouth and tried to pour water in my mouth but he
missed. Yeah, he spilled cold water all
over my face. I lost it. I just started bawling. Poor, poor Mike. He was just trying to help, and I was not mad
at him, I was just done. He ran and got
a towel and tried to clean me up. He
then sat on the end of the bed and stayed with me until my mom came home and
took over for him. He was just so sweet and caring and he did all
he could which was just giving me his time.
He is amazing.
So now I have to say goodbye for a second time. For the second time he leaves to a war
zone. This amazing, loving person, who
is needed and wanted at home is leaving.
The pain of him going is like a physical, unrelenting pressure on my chest. Sometimes I feel like I cannot even breathe I
am so sad.
Can I just share that I hate war? Nothing political. No agendas. I just hate war. I do not think anyone really does like war,
but I just do not feel like we say it enough.
I hate war. If I had a say, no
political official can take office until they read or re-read All Quiet on the Western Front and have
to write a ten page paper analyzing the effects of war on young men and their
families. I think that assignment would
prevent unnecessary pain.
I think of a poem penned by Konstantin Josef Jireček and
later adapted by Vietnam soldiers that has recently struck a chord with me:
We the
unwilling,
Led by the
unqualified,
To kill the
unfortunate,
Die for the
ungrateful.
We have
done so much,
With so
little,
For so
long,
We are now
qualified to do anything,
With nothing.
The poem can be interpreted by a many number of ways. For me it is saying that our brave young men,
are fighting for a country that does not understand their sacrifice. These young men, who are just starting to
live and have so much to learn and experience, are fighting a fight they did
not chose because they believe they have something to fight for. These amazing, resourceful, young, young men
are paying the ultimate price, not only with their physical lives but also with
their emotional and spiritual lives.
So much pain. So much
suffering. All seemingly
unnecessary.
Good bye my sweet, dear brother. May God be with you until we meet again.
