Today, I miss my Dad. I look at his flag and I wish it was him instead. Days like these, when I realize just how long it's been I get sad.
I remember before the war. I remember before the fighting started, before I started losing people I knew. I was 11 when 9-11 happened. My dad was in Special Ops. My life was forever changed...
I almost wish I didn't remember the peace. I have spent so long worried and waiting for news from far away. I have witnessed the injured coming home and buried the dead with a heavy heart. I have always known the sacrifice and the cost that had to be paid so we could be as safe as possible. And now, almost 9 years later, I'm still waiting for them to come home. Still waiting for the time when I can go to sleep and not send a little prayer to the heavens to watch out for all those that are there, all those that serve. I am still waiting for the peace of mind I haven't had since I was a little girl.
Nine long years. I still remember being Interviewed by the callous reporters at the front gates of base. Asking me how I felt, how the war affected me, what my views are. How they could ask a young girl of only 13 those questions, when her father was somewhere classified, gone for however long he was gone, always wondering when he'd be home. I hated the news then and I still do. It causes me such pain to watch the names and faces appear on my tv screen. The ones that will never come home, the ones I knew, the ones I didn't.
It doesn't help having the memories or experiences I have, nor does it help to know that so many friends I knew are gone and there are still more that serve, more joining daily. I write letters to them, I pray for them, I miss them. I hope tomorrow feels better but today I'm sad and missing the peace that I used to have. The kind of peace that existed before these wars. The kind of peace that, for me, only existed briefly. Two years between the abuse of one life and the wars of another. Two years where I was a child... Today, I miss that peace, the kind of comfort I had.
Today, most of all, I miss my dad. I look at his flag, place my hand upon the stiching of a star, trace the outline, line up his rack, even though it never moves, delicately touch his rank and the airforce seal. I stare at his name and think of his face, his smile, him in uniform, him in his Blues... All those memories bring tears to my eyes and I lean it, kiss the flag that was given to me to honour his service, and lay my cheek against the firmly folded fabric and a tear rolls from my eyes. I miss him so very much and long for his hug, when I laid my head on his chest and his big, strong arms would wrap around me. I miss his hugs and the flag just doesn't hug me back. My tears fall into it. I'm not crying for him, I know he's in Heaven. I'm crying for me. For the hole he left behind.
I miss the peace, the kind I had before the war. At Ruby Tuesdays, with my Dad and my Mom and everything was fine and safe.
