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.