This past weekend we grilled out and had some friends over for great food and conversation. While the menfolk were outside talking baseball Susan and I sat down at the kitchen table for some small talk. She asked about The Hub’s going to Iraq and his injuries and I told her all about that fateful deployment, his being Medevac’d out of there and the surgery and complications that ensued.
Later that evening The Hubs asked what all we talked about and I told him about that conversation. That was a bad move. I should know better. I know that I shouldn’t take him back to those dark times. But what was said couldn’t be unsaid.
He started naming off his soldier’s names and injuries/death, in chronological order of when they were hurt or killed. He still remembers their names, rank, where they were and what happened. He remembers if they were married, if they had kids. He remembers it all, he remember THEM all.
I’m sure the others that came back have these vivid recollections as well. Every one of them tells a story, each heartbreaking, but each of them honoring a fallen/injured brother.
So please don’t think that those that came back just went about living their lives. They are never forgotten, EVER!
