Gratefulness

Ever since Dillon and I were at Walter Reed yesterday, I can't get those men out of my head. They were sitting in the chairs near the pharmacy, leaving the garage, walking through the lobby, in the elevators, the lab, the hallways. Everywhere you turn, young men with missing limbs. And these are the lucky ones... The ones who actually returned from war.

I noticed Dillon watching a guy with a shiny metal prosthetic leg walking into the hospital. He hardly had a limp so that if he'd been wearing pants you wouldn't even know. "A soldier,“ I said. And then it dawned on him: we were at Walter Reed Army Medical Center - the hospital that receives the injured from Iraq & Afghanistan. The man was so young. And vibrant. He was strong and walked with a determination on his face. He didn’t look Proud, exactly, maybe Noble is the right word. He walked with his head up, not hiding his handicap, and I got the distinct impression that he wouldn't have considered it so.

We know that there are "casualties of war”. It's a fact that can't be helped. As a Navy Wife, I understand that. I know that every time my husband leaves, it could be the last time I see him. But that knowledge has always been in an abstract sort-of-way that sometimes comes close enough to just barely bruise the edges our daily life: When we lose a helicopter in a training accident... when an aircraft hits the ocean instead of landing gracefully the back of a frigate... We attend a Memorial Service, each one of us wives quietly thankful that it wasn’t us sitting in that front row today. We hear about the losses on the news every night and it is sad, but it is somewhere else. It's on the TV, which can be turned off and the knowledge tucked away into the farthest recesses of our minds, only to be recognized on the rarest and most solemn of occasions: Memorial Day, Veteran's Day, a visit to Arlington...…

But yesterday, there it was. Literally, in the flesh. I saw the price that American Military Men and Women pay for our Freedom. They do it willingly and proudly and they are the ones who carry the scars, every single day, for a lifetime.

And I walked away Humbled and Proud and Grateful and even a little Sad.

But mostly Grateful.