On December 24th, 2008 I was almost 21 and drinking wine at my Grandma’s house with my family. We were having a good time. I don’t really talk to that side of the family anymore though. I got a phone call from my best friend, Kyle. I joking let my uncle answer. Kyle asked to talk to me. He sounded angry.
The next few words he said were like a a fucking nuclear bomb that seared my fucking brain for life. He said, “NineMileTower, Steve died (in Iraq). A bridge gave out, his hummer flipped, and he drowned.”
That was in 2008. I’m 37 now. I have two beautiful girls and an amazing wife. I think of Steve all the time. I ask myself, “Why do I deserve these amazing kids, wife and life, and he had to die?”
I fucking hate Christmas. I hate the stupid music. I hate fake bullshit decorations. I hate that I’m supposed to pretend that every Christmas it doesn’t fucking kill me that he isn’t here. I’m here enjoying my kids and their holiday and he’s dead.
I fucking hate Christmas.
Sorry this time of year is tough on you. I was last deployed to Iraq in 2006, so before Steve but I’m sorry for your loss. We all grieve in our own way. Just make sure you let it out.
I lost Sgt Perez on one of my deployments. He was a good dude. He said he messed up early in his career but would never explain the details. I guess he would have been picking up a promotion if he didn’t have that bad paperwork. Great NCO. He looked after us. He had 3 kids and a wife. 2 of the kids was with his current wife. He was out walking around base at night when some rockets were shot at the base. He got some sharpnel when it impacted a building and didn’t make it.
I try to live my life in memory of the lost loved ones. They aren’t here anymore to enjoy life, so I try to enjoy it for them. Christmas can be corny and sound torture with all the songs, but some parts are enjoyable.