I knew the possibilities.

I knew the possibilities. My dad was in the Army. I lived at Ft. Campbell Kentucky in 1964-67, during the Viet Nam war. I knew. But it still never prepared me for seeing those Marines in my driveway.
My husband and I were in Huntsville when he got a call from his office, telling him there were soldiers at our house. They only come to your house when there is a death. I knew, but knowing is not always believing. Someone else had on Adam’s uniform. Someone else had been wearing Adam’s dogtags. It couldn’t be him! It had to be a mistake! Please God, PLEASE!! I begged God to wake me up. This can’t be happening!
But it was. And I knew.

“We regret to inform you…” at least that’s how I think it went, I really don’t remember hearing them speak. I knew without hearing the words. The looks on their faces said it all. I found myself wanting to comfort them but how, when all I wanted to do was lay down and die. Someone had to go get my daughter from work. Someone does but I don’t know who. Someone had to get Adam’s fiancée from work. Someone does but I don’t know who. The Army was supposed to inform my youngest son that his brother was killed in Iraq but no one does. That responsibility falls to me. His anguished cry will be with me forever. He is stationed at Schofield Barracks, Hawaii. So far away. I can’t be there to hold him, to comfort him on his 24-hour plane ride home. We had to wait a week for Adam to get home. That week I prayed they were wrong. I kept waiting for him to call me and tell me there had been a horrible mistake, that he was alive. But…

I knew.

I know. Our lives will never be the same as they were before Adam was killed. We are going to have to hold tight to each other and find some kind of new normal.



When you lose a child your priorities change. I realize the only thing that matters is love. And I believe it’s the only thing you can take with you when you go.