Time is stealthy, passing so quickly I continually glance over my shoulder to see what might have fallen behind. The things I could have, should have done. Moments missed as the continual pull of life yanks me forward. Some days I just want to shut myself away to write, play at my art table, dance, practice yoga, read, dream or be creative in my communication with family and friends. Instead Monday arrives and I head out the door to work. As I drive I shut off the radio and let the silence envelope me. I find joy in the crispness of the landscape that surrounds me as I let my thoughts run free. All to soon I arrive at my destination. With a feeling of regret I kill the engine and begin my day.
I asked and did receive. They together held it in honor until he too, the best friend, was KIA in Afghanestan, then she held it safe during the needed space because they loved him as we did.
His helmet arrived today, 11 years and 90 days after he was killed by a roadside bomb while on patrol in Iraq 2003 during Operation Iraqi Freedom. He was just shy of his 22nd birthday.
I did not expect to be so emotionally wrecked when I held it in my hands. My heart lurched as my stomach clenched and sobs erupted.
His military crest adorns the band circling the outside of his helmet as his blood stains the inner band that rested against his head. He was my baby, my son, my soldier, my hero.
You think your done grieving, then moments arrive, tears flow and your heart aches yet again.
I am who I am, uniquely me.