I hate to start my letter that way. Because you are so much more, but you know as well as I do, that in this season of your life it will be your defining title.
I wanted to write to you today, because condolence card after condolence card my words are ringing empty.
I’m sorry for your loss,
We are keeping you in our prayers,
E-mail if you need anything.
and as always, Thank you and your family for your service.
As always, As always….
I want you to know, I prayed for you tonight. After I sealed up the card, and wrote your address so neatly across the envelope and dropped it in the box I drove home to my very own veteran and I prayed for you. I prayed for your comfort, and your children. I prayed that you would know what I meant when I wrote, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
But just in case it didn’t bleed through the ink,
What I meant was:
-I’m sorry your life as you knew it has been destroyed. Not once, but twice. First when they came home from a war zone and you couldn’t find your husband in this new man’s eyes and now again that war has taken them long after they left the battlefield.
I’m sorry this country doesn’t understand your sacrifice because it’ll never make it to the television or the front page, because the grief you are drowning in doesn’t sell.
I’m sorry you’ll always feel a little alone standing in a room full of people. There are Gold star families, there are veteran families in recovery, and there’s you. Please know that I do see you.
I’m sorry you’ve joined a club no one wants to be a member of. I’m sorry its membership increases daily
I’m sorry I can’t take this pain from you.
I’m sorry you’ll always be faced with women who will walk away from meeting you that thank God it wasn’t them. I know you wish you could scream that it wasn’t meant to be you either.
I’m sorry you’ll meet women who know all too well what you’ve lost but can’t, won't, connect with you because it will bring too much pain back. I’m sorry, I’m just so sorry
“We are keeping you in our prayers”
I spoke your veteran's name today. To a room full of people that you will probably never know, on a conference line that had participants from around the country. My voice broke as I announced a brother gone home and I sent up a prayer that you would know that his name is known. He is not a number, a file, a record or a form.
“E-mail if you need anything.”
A phone call in the early morning. An ear to hear your tears. A month from now, a year from now. You are still a member of this family. That fact never changes.
“And As always, Thank you and your family for your service.”
How do I thank you for your service without it sounding like you signed up for this?
You didn’t, but thank you anyway.
Thank you for living a life you never expected.
Thank you for raising a family in the midst of this. Your children are our future.
Thank you for countless restless nights
Thank you for Doctors appointments, insurance forms, and medication refills
I know you’d give anything to have that unexpected life back
Thank you for loving a soldier, a marine, a seaman, an airman.
Thank you for loving a veteran. I know it wasn’t always easy
Thank you for loving them still.
-Antoinette B.
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