I'm still trying to adjust to living back at home, but so far it hasn't been too bad. Thankfully everyone else is home for Christmas break and I am spending a lot of time with people I haven't seen in years...some since graduation. Weird. And I'm also back at work and trucking right along there...trying to figure out how everything works since apparently they changed basically every technology and policy since I've left. That and being on my feet all day every day isn't too fun...but the paycheck is.
We were hoping Sweet Boy would have a 4-day weekend and would be able to come home, but they needed him to stay up there. Needless to say, I was pretty upset, but I had to keep in mind that he is home safe and that's really all I could ask for.
This week, I had an encounter with a coworker of mine. I won't go into too much detail about it since I've decided to let it go, but she still says stuff that bothers me. Here's the brief version:
The Wounded Warrior hospital is a little over an hour or so from where I live. A coworker of mine decided we should give away some little toys and outfits to the families who have children and are going to be stuck there for Christmas (I work at a little children's boutique). As she was gathering things to give away, she began telling me all these horrible stories of the families there. Things about how terribly it can rip apart your family. She went on to tell me how younger people get married and they just think about right then and there, not about what the possible outcomes could be and how they aren't really thinking about how their husbands may get hurt and then they have to deal with them when they get back.
Then she went on to tell me how it doesn't matter anyway since the war is over now that they are out of Iraq.
I just didn't know what to say, so I walked off. I was heartbroken. I was mad. I was so many emotions all at once. It was all I could do not to break down and cry in the middle of the store.
When I agreed to marry Sweet Boy, I did it knowing the possible outcomes. When I sent him off to war when we first started dating, I knew it was a possibility he may not make it home the same man, or make it home at all. I know the consequences. I am well aware of the hardships we may face as a young couple, but I am willing to do it because of the love that I have in my heart for Sweet Boy; stronger than any love I could imagine.
But the war is not over. It may be ending, but it isn't over. Sweet Boy is lucky enough to be home, but that's more than I can say for many of his friends. He's here while they are all gone, and he is having a hard time with that. He called me yesterday and told me how they had to practice a mock funeral in case something should happen. It gave me chills just thinking about what this meant; could he be in one of his friend's funerals any time soon? One of our friends? I can't imagine what was going through his head.
I'm so glad Sweet Boy is home, safe, and will see me for 18 hours starting tonight. I pray for all the families who aren't so lucky and I hope they will all make it back home safely to celebrate many, many more Christmases with their families.