February 9, 2009.
I knew this day would be coming but I had no idea it would be this bad.
From the Associated Press:
A suicide car bomber struck a U.S. patrol in northern Iraq on Monday, killing four American soldiers and an Iraqi interpreter in the deadliest single attack against U.S. forces in nine months.
Yes, these were soldiers from Will’s battalion.
My stomach turned. I knew this meant that Will would be thrust into the most difficult challenge of his life so far. I knew the weight he would have to bear for the almost 1100 soldiers in his battalion would be heavy. I wanted to hug him. My stomach turned for the families. My stomach turned for the unit. Later in the day, Will emailed again and said that he watched the fourth soldier die in the hospital with his own eyes.
I spent Monday in a daze. I searched desperately online, trying to find more details and more information. Before bed, Will had written me to tell me about the ramp ceremony (where they load the remains on to the airplane for travel back to the U.S.). I knew he was involved in that, and I ached for him. He was exhausted and drained, which I could tell by his emails. There was more work to be done, so our e-visit was quick. I wanted to hug him again.
On Tuesday, he sent me the news that left me speechless… breathless. One of the four killed was his battalion commander the leader. OH MY…. NO! All four of the soldiers’ lives were precious and not one is valued more than the other. But the leader? I cannot believe it happened. I knew this guy and he was an amazing leader. This battalion has been rocked to the very core. How can I be consumed with trivial things like laundry or runny noses when such tragedy has just occurred? How is it possible that I am sitting in my beautiful, comfortable house when my husband is in the midst of crisis so far away? Oh, why can’t I be close enough to hug him?
Lord, when life doesn’t make sense, help me wait on you.
“We wait in hope for the LORD; he is our help and our shield.” (Psalm 33:20)