I understood the military. After all, I was raised by a Vietnam veteran and was newly married to a soldier.
I had this figured out. None of it was all that big of a deal, just another path in the life of some.
On September 11, 2001...
It was sunny and I was driving down I-470 in Topeka to get my son to daycare and then I was off to work. Gabe was turning 1 in four days and his daddy would be home on mid-tour leave soon from his hardship tour in South Korea. In my little bubble, that was all that mattered.
I was listening to Johnny Dare on 98.9 The Rock out of Kansas City. Suddenly, the typically snarky DJ becomes very serious. I can't remember his exact words, but they involved something about a plane hitting one of the twin towers in New York City. My blood froze and I listened. Holy crap. I didn't yet know what was happening but I knew it wasn't good.
Gabe was dropped off at daycare and I headed to my mom's work to quickly check the news. When I arrived, I watched the first tower collapse on TV. Pretty sure I cried.
I went to work. Everyone was glued to the news. I was waiting for anything from Mike over in Korea, I hadn't heard from him. Finally, the call. All he said was that they were on lock down and headed to the DMZ in BFV's.
His last words? "Stay away from Fort Riley. We're going to war."
The following days were a blur. Midtour leave was cancelled. Gabe turned 1, but rather than a cartoon cake he had an American Flag. His Uncle Ben, a Sailor headed to his station in Guam, was delayed due to cancelled flights. He was home to see his first nephew celebrate a birthday.
Sooner or later, life settled back into a routine. The Korean tour ended and life went on.
In March 2003, the orders for OIF came down. Gabe was sending his daddy to war.
The years since that combat tour have been full. Welcoming babies and saying our goodbyes to parents and grandparents.
I knew nothing about PTSD...what it was, what it could do, how to respond. As the years went on, it was trying to teach me but I wasn't seeing it. Eventually, it won.
Interestingly enough, when I did learn, it taught me some things I didn't expect. It didn't fix my marriage but it did teach me compassion and the ability to co-parent. It also taught me to look at my own dad...a man who I spent so many years angry with. All of a sudden, a sliver of light was making its way in.
Today, when I look at 9/11, I do remember the horror. We all do. How can we not?
But I also think of what this journey has taught me. The relationship I have with my own father now, 12 years later, is stronger that it's ever been. My mind has been opened...forgiveness has happened...this man who raised me is someone whom I respect more than any written word could express.
This weekend, in just a few days, my mom and dad will visit when Gabe turns 13 years old.
Maybe his cake will have Old Glory gracing it yet again. :)
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