This whole past week I forgot to mention my happiness over having my ultimate fake boyfriend back. All of my complaining about not having someone to just make me smile when I saw him led to the reemergence of TB in church two days later. Before that, he hadn't been there in 3 months. But there he was, and what a sight to see. He was just as pretty and drool-worthy as I remembered. My face lit up when I walked in and saw him there, and I just kept smiling to myself, thinking, "Ask and ye sall receive." It was nice to have someone to dress up for and look forward to seeing, even if it was just for a smile and a cock of the head. That's the purpose of fake boyfriends.

This morning I was having trouble trying to decide what to wear for him. My mom was laughing at me flitting around the house in various skirts, sing-songing his name. It felt good to act 12 again. I finally managed to get myself together, but I ended up being about five minutes late. I crept into church and settled into my seat. I didn't even get a chance to put my coat down, let alone scope the room for TB before I saw my mother leaning over and looking at me. I looked up and she said, "[TB] went to Iraq."

I just sat there, stunned. She continued on to tell me that his mother said it was in the newspaper today, and that she asked her for his address so I could write to him. Luckily, I was still kind of shocked, so I didn't get to respond to my mother with the desired, "You did WHAT???" Instead, I just sat there for a moment, taking it all in.

It's strange, because with everything going on in my life, I tend to forget that there's still a war going on. I've found that this happens with a lot of people who don't have a personal connection with any of the soldiers over there. You see things on the news and in the paper, but then you carry on with your day and the news just rolls right off of you. Yes, it's horrible, but I can't think about that now - there are places to go, people to see.... You read stories about someone else's experience with the situation and your heart breaks for them. That story may stay with you, but it becomes buried somewhere in the recesses of your brain, replaced by trivial nonsense.

Today was the first time I got to see first-hand what something like this does to loved ones. The article in the paper had a little section about TB, saying that, at 22, he was the youngest member of his troop. He'll be overseas for a year. He said that he wanted to do something for his country, and that he signed up for the Air Force a month after 9/11. His mother was quoted as saying she was "a little bit nervous" about the whole situation. That may be one of the understatements of the year.

The thing that hit me the most, though, was watching his family today in church. We were all standing and singing, and his little sister was clinging to their mother, with her arms clutched around her neck and her head on her mother's shoulder. Their mother just stood there, looking almost numb. I looked closer and noticed her grasping a crumpled-up tissue in her hand, soaked with tears. Their father just stood there proudly, singing his heart out - being the strong one. I watched them for a little while, my heart aching for them. I can't even imagine what they're going through. The mother's purse was laying open on her seat, and used tissues were falling out of it on all sides. I wanted to just go and hug her. My mother later told me that when she was talking to her about everything this morning, TB's mother was still having trouble talking about it without breaking into tears. He had told her that she couldn't come to the send-off if she was going to "be boo-hooing" the whole time, so she had to keep up a brave face for her equally brave son. My mother said she seemed extremely thankful when my mother asked for his address so she and I could send him a letter or two. I don't even know what I would say in mine, but watching that family today and thinking about TB and what he must be going through, I hope I think of something that will make him smile. I owe him at least that much for all of the times he did it for me. I'm sure when it all comes down to it, I'll write him something inane and silly to keep his spirits up. I'll want to tell him that I'm praying for him and to keep himself safe, but I'll probably go with the safety of our whole "You look like Jake Gyllenhaal" banter. Hopefully he'll see through all of the nonsense and know that I care and am thinking of him.

So take care, my pretty one. Know that I am smiling every time I think of you, and praying for you to come home safe and soon. Be strong, and send some extra love to your mother for me.

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before & after





2007-09-26 - Follow Me!
2006-09-30 - Site Move & Favorite Entries
2006-09-25 - Evil Easter Bunnies & Rock Climbing!
2006-09-22 - Shameful-Purchase Hiding & A New Dentist Plan
2006-09-19 - Birthday Picture/Video Diary & The Wheelmobile





Copyright 2003-2006 by Sockgirlie. Stealing is wrong.