[not so] simple Sundays

People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.  - George Orwell

Tonight my grief runs deep.

It's amazing how you can mourn for someone you never met.  Mourn for their life, their future and feel completely physically nauseated as you think about the anguish of their family members are experiencing from moment to moment.

Today Philip and I don't have the luxury of this being an impersonal news story.  It's very personal.  And very close to home.  And I am hurting very deeply for the families who will be receiving a flag-draped coffin off of a plane this weekend.  It takes my breath away in a punch-you-in-yhe-gut-knock-the-wind-out-of-you way.  It is my worst nightmare.  And today, it was a nightmare come true for three more families.

I envy the fact that for 99.9% of the population today was a carefree day in which people could post on Facebook pictures of the food they enjoyed with their family or commentary about their favorite football team.  I feel envy. Feel annoyed.  Feel frustrated.  Feel angry.  And some more envy.  It's a strange amalgam of emotion this living the life-or-death thing.  And I'm many many many MANY more degrees removed from it than my husband is right now, but I still find myself living in this parallel universe.  It's bizarre.  And sometimes really lonely.  Recently I have found myself with relatively low tolerance for first world problems.  It doesn't impact my clinical work but definitely colors the filter in which I see the majority of the rest of my interactions.

People pay with blood so that Americans can have Sundays full of football and Dominoes pizza.  We are a country at war.  Every single day.  Even if a majority of the country enjoys the luxury of not even having to think about it on a regular basis and continues to lead largely unaffected lives. . . it's still real.  It's still messy.  And complicated. And bloody.  And incomprehensible.  War is hell.  My prayers tonight are for the small minority that are shouldering the weight of this conflict and will continue to live deeply affected by the effects of this fight for the rest of their lives . . . for the countless families who have watched their son, daughter, husband, wife, mom, dad, brother or sister's coffin come out of the back of a plane and eventually be lowered into the ground.  My heart shatters into a million pieces for you and the tears continue to stream down my face. . .