When my youngest son Justin was born, and I held him for the first time, I said, “I’m so happy to see you” in a high-pitched voice, over and over. When he was little, I’d say it to him randomly, and told him the story of the first time I saw him. We have joked a few times, when I visit him, I still say it (in the baby voice).
Fast forward, he gets on the bus to Fort Benning the day after he turned 18, and he turned 19 less than a month ago.
Due to covid, I didn’t see him march for his high school diploma, turn green after basic, turn blue after infantry, or get his wings pinned to his chest after airborne school. I didn’t see his first promotion ceremony and might not see the next.
If you have access to the internet, you see the conflict to the east. Four thousand troops are deploying, most from the 82nd where my son is stationed.
I was so proud to learn that was his first duty station. But also super happy. Its drivable you see. I have visited him five times since he got there 6 months ago. Several trips were in-and-outs due to car issues, but we always at least had a good meal together, and shopped whenever we got a chance.
A few weeks ago, right after his birthday, his brother and I went down and we got to hit the range on base. It was fun.
On our grocery run, the store didn’t have the right noodles he likes, so when I got home, I got two cases of it. They’re on the floorboard of my truck now, ready for the next visit.
But, he just pinged me for cash for his IRF list. That means immediate response force. That means, he is probably getting on a plane soon.
Today I looked at the noodles and I searched for air in my lungs, but there was none.
There aren’t words or emotions that I know of that can explain what this feels like.
I am proud, I am supportive. I know this is what he answered the call for. He wants his combat patch.
All I can do now is wait.
It will be difficult to see the voices on social, hating on our troops. I don’t know if I can stomach it.
You hate us when we are there, and when we leave, and when we come back. People having not earned the right to approve or disapprove, type away with whatever opinions they’re told to have, with nothing at stake. That same right, however, ironically, that you don’t have to earn, on the backs of men like my son, doing something you can’t even fathom.
I see his older brother regretting not joining, and wonder if this will push him further in that direction. I think part of him feels like as the big brother, he was supposed to do it first. And I know he wants to be there with him, defending him and having his 6. I can’t imagine what his heart feels like right now. He and I committed a while back, when his brother deploys, we’re going to stop drinking and go hardcore on the workouts. So, there’s that…
On another note entirely, one of the last things my mother (who I haven’t spoken to now in 14 months) said to him is, “You will likely die on the front lines in Afghanistan” – and that is a whole other thing in my head taking up too much space. Thanks Mom.
Now I make what no longer feels involuntary breaths. You breath without thinking about it, I don’t. I’m bursting and numb.
I can’t wait to say, “Happy to see you” to him again. And give him lots of noodles.
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