I work as a part-time secretary at the school where I teach. Most of the time here, I alternate between wanting to hide from humanity entirely or just throw my bosses off a cliff. Today, though, it aches. I just got a call from the mother of one of our young students; they won't be able to come to the next two classes because her brother was just killed in Afghanistan. Her quiet composure was torturous to listen to.
As both the child of a soldier and someone who lives near a military base, hearing of soldier deaths isn't a rare occurrence for me; even when it's one of my dad's men, I have very little reaction to it. This time, though, the death of an unknown brother to a woman I've only met in passing has me feeling as though someone took a sledgehammer to my chest. The amount of grief I feel for a life ended too soon and the loved ones he left behind has brought me to my knees, crying out to God to love on this family so hard. Whether you pray or not, keep this family and our fallen soldier in your thoughts. The road they are facing is one no one should have to journey down.
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