I am married to a fireman.
no wait...
I am married to a policeman.
no wait...
I am married to my soul mate, my other half...
There is a part of my brain and heart for each of those roles. The part reserved for my soul mate and other half is big and full of love and joy and anticipation of the future. The other part while small is still there and reminds me on a daily basis what can be taken away so easily.
I have thought about "that day" and what it would look like. It is evening. The kids have been put to bed. I am tidying up after a long day alone with the kids while Jason has been at work. I pass by the front window and I see the car pass by the house. The car is dark gray and has tinted windows. It turns around at the top of the street and pulls up against the curb in front. My heart quickens. The two men sit in the car for a moment. They both glance at the house and then each other. They get out of the car. They are both dressed in their blue Class A uniforms. They walk to the door where they both remove their hats. One of them rings the doorbell. I already know why they are here. If I don't answer the door will they just go away?
I used to think I was crazy, overly dramatic, or morbid for that thought. Over the years, I have talked to other wives whose husbands do what mine does. They too, have thought of that moment. One wife's car is red. The other wife is at a friend's house when they come looking for her. The details vary in each of our scenarios except for one...not one of us ever opens the door.
Today marks the 9th Anniversary of Sept. 11th, 2001. I remember the actual day like it was yesterday. Jason was up early and left for work. Not long after the phone rang, it was Jason telling me to turn on the TV. I did and instantly my heart sank. All I could think about were those men and women who were running up the stairs instead of down and praying for their safe return to their families. As the reality of the day's events unfolded I began to mourn for all of the wives (and husbands) who were living out the nightmare of "that day". What color was the car? What time of day was it? Did they look out the window and see "the car"? Did they want to not answer the door in hopes that it would all go away?
On September 15th, 2001, Jason was asked to go to Atlanta for terrorism/chemical warfare training and most likely on to NYC for assistance there. He had attended this training almost yearly and I thought missing it would be just fine...with me. When I asked him to not go it was like asking him to stop breathing. He told me why he needed to be there. I watched my husband board a plane four short days after watching two planes crash into a building. I was one of the lucky ones...he returned home safely and with even bigger determination to serve and protect.
I am proud of Jason. I don't tell him that enough.
Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends --John 15:13
remember verb, to keep in your mind, to not forget
