Then I get an email like I did today. I was driving with his boys back from picking up the dog from the kennel. She actually didn't seem too traumatized, which is nice. At a stoplight, I checked to see if I had an email from him. I was so excited, until I read it.
"i have had a rough 24 hours. last night i almost got hit by a rocket so needless to say i had to spend the whole night out investigating the sites they shot from then this afternoon cut my thumb pretty bad."
I could feel my chest get tight. I deliberately didn't say anything to the boys, but it was hard to finish the drive home. I just told them that their dad cut his thumb and was having a rough night.
I almost lost him forever last night, or yesterday our time. I don't even know what to say about that. He almost was killed . . . so now I sit and just turn that over in my mind like a polished worry stone my dad used to turn in his hands as he thought. I don't know how I got through the rest of the day with that information in my mind except that Dadve's brother and SiL came in for the night and things got pretty crazy between my MiL and Dadve, Al and Pat, my SiL Megan, the boys (12 and 11) and baby with holiday stuff and unpacking happening. I didn't have a lot of time to ponder. We played a lot of Kinect games.
But now, as I try to fall asleep, I worry. I haven't heard from him again since the email at 11 pm his time which probably means he crashed out after a very long night and had a busy day preparing to go to his other duty station, but I will worry until I hear from him again.
When I think about rockets, I think about that silly song from the seventies, "Sky rockets in flight . . . " and 4th of July and space travel. I don't want to think about losing the most important half of me. I still don't know how to process the fact that he almost died, if I even can.
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