Post by spikeict on Nov 19, 2006 18:25:46 GMT -5
I had planned to post this a little closer to Christmas, but things have happened to indicate I will not be here, but still wanted to tell the story none the Less.
To me Christmas has turned into Thanksgiving. While I understand that we don't know the exact date December 25th has been designated to celebrate the birth of Christ, I have always seen it that way but two years ago it turned into Thanksgiving for me.
My second born was stationed in Mozul Iraq, it was a fairly peaceful region so I did not overly worry, that changed with a phone call. I was told that the mess tent there had been bombed.
Chris had been good about calling or emailing me and or his sisters, that contact stopped on that day, there was no word from him or from the Army. There is a Stryker message board that was flooded with questions from family and friends of those that were there on that day. No one knew anything, I was not panicked yet, but then came word from one of his cousins who said she had gotten a email from him that when he signed off told her that he was on his way to lunch. The time showed 10 mins before the bomb went off. The next two weeks (don't remember the exact date) was hell on earth, every time the phone rang of there was a knock on the door my heart stopped, I expected men in uniform with a grim look on their faces.
I will preface the next paragraph with a little about me, I was a Policeman in a small town for 14 years, being a small town we did everything that needed to be done, I have delivered news that a sons mother was killed in a murder suicide, picked a traffic accident victims brain up and put it back in the skull so the body would be complete, to spending the night on a back porch with a woman who had been cut so many times there were wounds that did not bleed as there was no blood left. I was tough, no tears! At 0333 hrs Dec 25th 2004 the phone rang in my apartment, it was my kid, the communications blackout had been lifted, he was fine and had been 30 feet from the tent. I cried tears of relief as I talked to him (hell I am crying now), when I arrived at grandma's (where I live now) for Christmas my mother met me on the step with tears in her eyes(They had heard from him also) I could not look at her the rest of the day without tearing up.
Last year he was home for Christmas, I was sick and remember him laughing at me because I sounded like Billy bob Thourton in sling blade.
So what Christmas means to me, thank you for my son, and thank you lord for yours.
To me Christmas has turned into Thanksgiving. While I understand that we don't know the exact date December 25th has been designated to celebrate the birth of Christ, I have always seen it that way but two years ago it turned into Thanksgiving for me.
My second born was stationed in Mozul Iraq, it was a fairly peaceful region so I did not overly worry, that changed with a phone call. I was told that the mess tent there had been bombed.
Chris had been good about calling or emailing me and or his sisters, that contact stopped on that day, there was no word from him or from the Army. There is a Stryker message board that was flooded with questions from family and friends of those that were there on that day. No one knew anything, I was not panicked yet, but then came word from one of his cousins who said she had gotten a email from him that when he signed off told her that he was on his way to lunch. The time showed 10 mins before the bomb went off. The next two weeks (don't remember the exact date) was hell on earth, every time the phone rang of there was a knock on the door my heart stopped, I expected men in uniform with a grim look on their faces.
I will preface the next paragraph with a little about me, I was a Policeman in a small town for 14 years, being a small town we did everything that needed to be done, I have delivered news that a sons mother was killed in a murder suicide, picked a traffic accident victims brain up and put it back in the skull so the body would be complete, to spending the night on a back porch with a woman who had been cut so many times there were wounds that did not bleed as there was no blood left. I was tough, no tears! At 0333 hrs Dec 25th 2004 the phone rang in my apartment, it was my kid, the communications blackout had been lifted, he was fine and had been 30 feet from the tent. I cried tears of relief as I talked to him (hell I am crying now), when I arrived at grandma's (where I live now) for Christmas my mother met me on the step with tears in her eyes(They had heard from him also) I could not look at her the rest of the day without tearing up.
Last year he was home for Christmas, I was sick and remember him laughing at me because I sounded like Billy bob Thourton in sling blade.
So what Christmas means to me, thank you for my son, and thank you lord for yours.
