Dear Gunny

Dear Gunny-

                I’m not sure that you will ever “know” me.  Maybe you will remember me from those few moments of clarity you had, but I don’t think so.  I truly believe that one day- either here, or in heaven- God will grant me to the opportunity to see you again and tell you what a profound impact you and your family have had on my life.  For the last year I have thought about you daily, and prayed for you nightly. I’ve prayed that your wife and daughter would have peace, and that God’s will be done when it came to your recovery. I’m not so sure that physically surviving is always a blessing.

                From the moment I started work on the floor, everyone talked about you. You were the local Hero. A true Hero. An American Hero.  And after hearing about you I can remember looking out the window and praying to God that you would make a miraculous recovery, praying that you would, “come back” because I wanted the fairy tale happy ending for you and your family. Then I met you.  My heart broke and my soul ached the first time I saw you.  At that moment I realized that, “surviving” is more than just a heartbeat or breathing. At that moment, my prayers changed, and I prayed that Gods will be done… whatever that might be.

                I remember the heartache I felt when the Doctors discussed your condition and your likely prognosis. And I remember how broken your wife looked when she listened on. She was missing her other half. A piece of her that she so desperately wanted back, yet there was nothing she could do to change the circumstances. What was done, was done. A week later while your wife was sitting with you by the window- you did something miraculous. While enjoying the sun shining through the windows- your wife was enjoying one of the Popsicle they often had on the floor. You looked at her. I don’t know if you know this or not, but you always looked at her.  We could try for hours to get your attention, to get you to “come out”, to follow commands, but the minute she walked into the room- your eyes went straight to her.  She jokingly held up the popsicle for you that day, and offered you a piece, not expecting any reaction- and you ate it.  I have never seen such pure, unadulterated, honest, joy in my entire life.  When she came running down the hall to tell everyone, it was like the fourth of July. Something so simple, eating a popsicle, and yet it had changed her world.

                I didn’t get to work with you very often, and in fact, I was only able to talk to your wife a few times. But I’ll never forget what she said to me. “I would choose him. If given the choice between the freedom and prosperity of thousands of children, or having my husband back- I would choose him.”

                People ask if its worth it, if the price paid is justified. And with the recent death of Osama Bin Laden- which I am CONFIDENT you would celebrate with a beer and a cigar- I ask myself, “is it worth it”. The patriotic soldier in me says yes. “For the man on my left and right”- that’s why we fight. Just like in the movie Black-Hawk Down- “When I go home people'll ask me, "Hey Hoot, why do you do it man? What, you some kinda war junkie?" You know what I'll say? I won't say a goddamn word. Why? They won't understand. They won't understand why we do it. They won't understand that it's about the men next to you, and that's it. That's all it is.” I know you feel the same way. I know that because after the explosion- after you were injured- the only 2 things you asked about we’re your Marines- and your family – nothing else- not even your own catastrophic injuries.

                I only knew you and your family for a very short time. And I am proud to say that I helped to take care of a true American Hero.  I have no idea where you are now, or how you are doing, or if you have long since passed.  All I know is I still pray for you and your family. To me, you are the face of this war. To me, you represent the price paid by so few for so many. To guarantee that the next generation will have the same freedoms and opportunities as the one before it. In my eye’s you are the face of this war, and your family- your wife- represents the pain and anguish that so many will never understand, because they have never HAD to pay, because you were the one to pay for them. Millions of people will go to bed tonight, not even thinking twice about the cost of their freedom. Their ignorance is willful bliss.  

Other’s will go to sleep tonight- laying in an empty bed- wrapped up in an old t-shirt, and trying so bitterly hard to remember the way it felt to have their loved one hold them.  So many others who will never get that welcome home- never get that warm embrace and loving kiss- so many children who will never know a father or mother and so many others who will live a lifetime without the ones they love, because THAT is the price that was paid.

I think about you every day, and the price that you paid. I look forward to the day we meet again- so that maybe you will know how monumentally you have changed my life.  Never again will I take for granted the simple joys in life or the joy of my family and friends- because now I know what they cost.

Peace be with you. We will meet again.