Posted by on Sep 11, 2011 in Photographs, Sacred Experiences, Sacred Rituals | 0 comments

Dear Mom,

I miss you so much. Your outstanding cooking. You bugging me about my dirty laundry. Can’t tell you where I am now except that I think of you a lot. Hell, my Seal Team commander told us how proud he was even though we’re a royal pain in the butt. Spending time on missions is mostly boring but once in a while, we have some fun. Like my buddy, Ted, said, “It’s not for us to ask why but to do or die trying.” He’s crazy, you know, but we got plans. I can’t wait to come home for Christmas this year–if I’m lucky. Short email today, got to go.

Luv ya– Mark…

“Collect their personal effects. The Survival Assistance Officer wants them,” said the Commander solemnly to the First Sergeant.

“Can do sir. We’ll have these shipped out on the first bird.”

“Name, please,” repeated the Graves Registration person with the efficiency and coldness of a government civilian doing his job, one he’d done so many times.

“Mark D___,” repeated his co-worker.

The unusually loud knock on the door of that perfect 6 a.m. morning shuddered the frame of the proud trailer house, its mounted American flag flapping in the wind. An Army Officer, crisp and clean — stood tall, the rising sun cascading over his shoulder.

Inside, she waited, trembling.

He said, “On behalf of the President of the United States and a grateful nation… with honor and respect, I wish to inform you . . .”

 ~Myles Saulibio

Comments

comments

Leave a Comment