I was writing my paper for photo class (yes that's right: photo class) about my brother's tour of duty in Iraq this past year. I've been reminiscing about it a lot, not that I think that's the right word for it but just remembering a lot of things about him leaving, being gone, and returning. There are movie replaying over and over in my mind. Some make me cry from the pain that still lingers, and others, from pure joy. I just keep thinking about how lucky I am that my brother came back, unharmed. I know luck isn't the right word, it's a blessing. Odd as it is to say, his nine month tour in one of the world's most dangerous places was a blessing. He probably got to see a side of me that he never had through my letters and I realized how important family is to me.
Before his tour, I would think Joe was the least connected to me out of all my siblings. We didn't even really have a history like I at least did with all my other siblings. After this, I truly appreciate him and cherish him, I hold him so near to my heart and thank God so much that he came home safely. I guess that's our history.
It's funny because back when he went to boot camp when I was in eighth grade, we went down to Great Lakes Chicago to his graduation. His wife (then fiance) obviously gave him a big hug because it had been -I can't remember- six weeks (?). And I waited my turn when my mom said "You know something, Joe...it's odd but do you know who missed you the most?" and He looked intrigued, "Alicia." she said, "She just kept saying, 'It's weird but I really miss Joe'."
It's funny because I did, but didn't know why. This time around (for his deployment) I missed him like crazy, wrote him tons of letters and talked to him on the phone about random things for what little time I could possibly steal.
I love to replay the memory of my realization that he was walking up our lawn and our hug where I practically tackled him. Although the day he left Minnesota was the worst of my life, I guarantee that the day he returned was one of the best!
