Popular Posts

Friday, August 12, 2005

Contemplation

Have you ever had the days where you can't seem to find the words to say what you want to say?

It happens to me. A lot.

My family would probably laugh if they ever read this post. They'd say, "You, not know what to say?" Weeping Prophet might even say something to the effect of, "It's about damned time she shut her trap."

Yes, I do talk a lot. Most of that is rambling from one topic to another, usually having a point but usually distracted before the point is made.

Well, tonight, I confess that I am speechless.

The Diablo emailed me yesterday telling me how great things are in his neck of the woods. He and his family is doing great. He's currently in Cleveland for some equipment training and he's not looking forward to going back to Iraq the third time around this fall.

I would be, too, if I were in his shoes.

He's leaving his precious baby, who's a running toddler. His wife might be back in the states before he gets out from the Desert. He isn't gone yet and he already misses his family.

Moments like this tear my heart.

Anyone who knew me as Fernie would tell you that the history between me and Diablo was very rocky. We started out as mortal enemies (getting ready for Bosnia), eventually became friends (when my roomie kept on locking me out of our room and I had to steal some shuteye from his buddy's bunk) and now, we've become each other's staunch supporters (in and out of the service) in a matter of eight years.

During his first tour, we spoke very briefly since he was there for about six months and relatively on the far end of the battlefields. Second time around, he was more anxious. He just left his wife and new born baby to fend for themselves while he was constantly being blasted with mortar for 10 months. He was so withdrawn that he didn't want to tell his wife how close he was was to becoming a casualty of war. However, all this and more, he shared with me, and eventually Nilly. He and Nilly weren't 'best buds' for reasons I won't go through in this post but at times like the one he went through, he knew that talking to someone who'd been in similar situations would understand more than someone who'ds just seen or heard what's allowed in the news.

These are the moments that render me speechless. I cherish my conversations and emails with Diablo not because I once had feelings for him (and vice versa when I left Germany) but because events like these show how much we do need people who understand us; to feel for us and to complete us.

Nilly understands that when Diablo and I talk nowadays, there's nothing going on except friendly banter in a tension-filled location. We usually have group chat sessions but the hubby understands that there are times I would like to talk to Diablo alone and for me to leave them alone to chat like when I left Diablo talking to P.Nilly hours on end during New Year's day.

History with the three of us is one that cannot be put to words. It's strange and yet fulfilling. Maybe I am just being sentimental for sentimental's sake but I know one thing's for sure. I will be up chatting with him even though I have a ton of things to read and write while I am at school. No, it's not because of any hidden agendas or unrequited affections. It's because once you've seen a world so foreign to what you've known, knowing that you have someone to talk and appreciate beautiful disasters with is hard to find.

Diablo, for your sake and your family, the Nilly and I wish you all the luck and love only another fellow soldier would ever know. You'll always have us on the other line when you need to sound off.

For all of you who know someone in the services, just give them a word of thanks.

If you have the time and/or the money, please support The National Red Cross by donating blood or volunteering or The USO. They are willing to take books, videos, DVDs, CDs, board games and other items that may be used to boost morale to the troops.

Contemplate. It's good every once in a while.

4 comments:

Amy Beth Johnson said...

history can be hard at times, but in the end, we really wouldn't trade it for anything, would we?

i love your contemplative blogs. I can't even imagine your friend's position, having to leave his young family. Talk about heart wrenching.

Thanks for leaving a lovely message on my story. i'm sorry i missed you. Had some girl time with SIL: make-up demos and blue drinks. And we, too, talked about history. I'll fill you in when we chat next. Remind me.

love and hugs,

ames

Anonymous said...

You know I will! LOL.

It's rather difficult, really, to say to someone, "Let it go." It's never that easy, especially when you've been used to doing something for quite a while. That safety blanket becomes something other than that. It becomes part of your life.

I just hope for his sake he'd move back to the states and away from the field.

~M

rosie4299 said...

History is hard. It's something that you can't escape, no matter what. Sometimes it's good, and sometimes it's bad. But it's inevitable. But Ames is right, I wouldn't give up any of the things that have happened to me. (Well, maybe my N SYNC phase, and that God awful time when my friends and I thought that hair crimping was so 'back in style') But if I gave up any of the bad, I wouldn't be able to fully appreciate the good. No one would. Our history is what makes us who we are.

I hope that everything with your friend comes out okay. It must seriously suck to be away from your family like that, especially a young child. I can't even imagine what it would be like not to watch my future children grow up. I'll keep him and his family in my prayers.

We do have a whole slew of board games that no one plays down in the basement, maybe I'll bring them down the next time my mom and I go down to drop off the phone cards. They're just collecting dust, if someone could use them, especially to get their mind off of the hardships of war, give them a little piece of normalcy in their lives, it'll be better than our cellar. Hopefully they like Pit and Scattergories. (I love these games to death, but we have two Pit's and three scattergories. And so don't play either enough to warrant that.)

I would donate the blood, but that would be very bad. I tend to pass out at the sight of it, and plus, they won't take it anyways. I have anemia and my asthma medication has a steroid in them. So even if I could get past that needle, (which I totally can't. Just talking about it, giving me hives, and my heart is starting to speed up. Oh, jeez, now I have that image in my head. A needle going into my skin. Heebie Jeebies. Ick. Ick. Ick. Must make it go away!) They don't want my blood. It's not good enough for them. All thin and chock full of steroids.

I guess it's a good thing I don't play pro baseball, or Jose would be on my ass like Barry Bonds...

K

Anonymous said...

K, don't faint. It's okay. The game boards would do. And unless you hit homeruns, I don't think the Baseball commission would be knocking on your door.

Jackie, don't ever think it's trivial to ask, "How is he/she doing?" Of course, you won't get to hear the whole story or even begin to understand unless you've been there but I personally liked hearing when someone passes on their regards to us.

All I can tell you to tell your friend is to be patient and resilient. It will be tough when he comes back. He might see things that he would've wished he hadn't or done things that in good moral conscience wouldn't do but has to do as to not compromise the mission. It isn't a cake walk but abandonment and giving up this early in the game isn't the answer. Tell her to have faith and not to stop writing. Have a campaign started on his behalf from letter writing to making care packages. Send video tapes. I know it helped when I was in Bosnia.

~M