It took just one second -and three letters- to destroy my family. It was supposed to be Nick’s final operation before heading back to the states. Instead, an IED took out my husband’s entire tank crew.
My soldier, my husband, isn't coming home. Nick will never meet his son.
I stand here with a flag in my arms and tears choked in my throat. Baby Nicky cries as I hold him. He can sense my pain but I can’t offer him comfort. I clutch him to me, needing him close. I rock him gently back and forth while I look at this final photo taken of Nick and his crew.
I swallow my anger. My son will never meet this man who committed himself to defending our country. He'll never meet the daddy who dreamt of a son he could teach to play ball.
That damn IED took my son’s father away from him. I begin to shake. The rage boils from deep within me for everything taken from us. My tears finally spill out and onto the soft blanket cocooning Nicky. My anger explodes, my sobs deepen and I hold onto my son who’ll grow up never knowing his daddy.
© Paloma Beck, Tantalizing Tuesday 2012AUTHORS NOTE: While these men in this photo returned safely to their families, they did encounter IEDs and were lucky to be listed among the survivors. [According to Wikipedia:] In the second Iraq War, IEDs were used extensively against US-led Coalition forces and by the end of 2007 they had become responsible for approximately 63% of Coalition deaths in Iraq. They are also used in Afghanistan by insurgent groups, and have caused over 66% of the Coalition casualties in the Afghanistan War.
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