Bill walked into "NancyLand" and told me he just received a text message from Beau that said "orders got screwed up". Nooooooo. My baby is supposed to be getting out of the Marines on Thursday. I think my heart skipped a beat.
Instead, he's getting out TODAY! Woo hoo. A mistake to his favor (for a change)! As of 8 am Pacific Time, my boy is no longer active duty.
But I'm sure you've heard the saying "once a Marine, always a Marine".
It's an odd feeling being the Mother of a Marine (or any active duty soldier for that matter).
When you hold them as babies, you pray they're healthy.
Then they start to walk and you hope they don't fall and hurt themselves.
You send them off to kindergarten and, although you're crying and will miss them terribly, hopefully they won't miss you too much.
Grade school is good and then high school. You go through the trials of growing up, dating, driving (ugh driving!) and then . . .
you send them off to college and leave them behind at some dorm with people you've never seen before and you think your heart will break: the first time they're truly on their own.
And then one day they come home and tell you they want to join the service.
Is this a phase?
No, he feels a calling.
Damn. What did I say or do that makes him think he wants to do this?
But you can see it in his eyes. He's serious. And no amount of begging will change his mind.
And you raised him to be independent and stand on his own and be brave and follow his dreams.
Just never thought this would be his dream!
And he's off to basic training, far from home . . . and no communication (at all!) for months. It's a cult - and they're winning. He's in the 1/7 - nickname: Suicide Charley. Hello. Could you have come up with another nickname please.
Graduation from basic training brings a feeling of pride you never thought possible.
And then he gets his orders. And it tears your heart apart. Never in a million years could you have imagined you'd send your baby off to war. It's not possible that this is really happening. Sending him off with the idea in the back of your mind that you may never see him again is unfathomable.
You learn to live with the old saying "no news is good news". You pray God keeps him safe. You pray to anyone you know that may be able to keep him safe. And pray you never get a knock at your door. Morbid thoughts but they keep creeping up. You can't help it.
He loses friends (both U.S. and Iraqi) that he's made oversees as well as one good friend from high school. He's too young to lose friends. And you pray again that he can get through this unharmed.
You go through this twice (some of you even more than that) - this war thing.
And you pray "don't take my baby".
And God answers your prayers.
Thank you God for bringing him home safe. Thank you to anyone who ever said a prayer for my baby. Thank you to all who pray for our soldiers. May they all find peace.
Semper Gumby!
