Meet my dad. At the risk of sounding cliche I have to tell you that my Dad was a stand up kind of guy. Everyone loved him and because of him people knew who I was at no more than the mention of my last name. And in turn loved me.
Joe was one of my Dad’s best friends. They worked together for years. My Dad would tease Joe about his height (among other things) by asking him to peek through keyholes to see if anyone was home when they would make house calls. Joe would fire back by giving Dad a hard time for his gargantuan height. They loved giving each other a hard time.
My Dad told Joe that when he died he would come back and haunt him.
Meet my Dad’s ghosts:
This is me with one of my long time best friends Emily. Emily and I happened to become friends our Freshman year in high school when our circle of girlfriends was formed. We’ve been close ever since. Emily happens to be Joe’s daughter.
And this is my brother with one of his best friends Nick. They went to grade school together and now, as fathers themselves, they raise their kids together. Nick happens to be Joe’s son.
My Dad held true to his promise to come back for Joe. What are the chances that we would all end up in school together? What are the chances that we would even like each other, much less all become best friends? I believe in miracles. I believe my Dad orchestrated my path to cross with Joe’s daughter’s path. I know it.
Emily and I also have big brothers. Big brothers who were trouble makers growing up. Big brothers we looked to for protection. Big brothers who filled our lives with memories and laughs and good times.
My big brother, Joe, joined the Navy when I was in fourth grade. Later there was a war in the Middle East. President Bush called my brother to duty. Rumors spread at school about how they were going to pour oil in the ocean and set my brother’s ship on fire. I feared for his life until he was safely returned home to us.
Emily’s big brother, Ben, joined the army when Emily was in sixth grade. Later there was a war in the Middle East. President Bush called her brother to duty. Rumors spread that since he was part of the Delta Force, the military’s most elite and secretive unit, he was in great danger. His family feared for his life. And they were right to. Ben never came home.
Ben died on November 2nd 2003 when his Humvee was hit by a roadside bomb during a response to a rocket-propelled grenade attack in Baghdad. He was only 30 years old and had a wife and two baby girls waiting for him to come home.
His wife was eight months pregnant with their third daughter.
After his death, his wife had been telling her Dad how she wished for some sign that Ben was with her. The family had gathered in the living room and watched a fire slowly burn as they reminisced. As they stared they were startled to see the distinctive shape of a cross glowing in the middle of a log. Emily said she had never experienced anything like it. That it was clearly a cross. She felt a surge of energy and rush of adrenaline and someone quickly snapped this picture…
…and the log collapsed seconds later.
Ben’s sign.
Another miracle.
I believe Ben’s wife and three babies will live the rest of their lives with a sadness in their hearts for missing him…but I believe they will find another way. And that it will be good too.
Everyone loved Ben and because of him people will know who his kids are at no more than the mention of their last name. And in turn will love them.
I am confident that Ben is safe at last. I am confident that upon arriving in heaven Ben swooped up his baby boy, marched right over to my Dad and kicked him square in the shin for teasing his dad as much as he did.
I am confident that my Dad will be there to dote over Ben the way Ben’s dad has been here to dote over me and that they are probably creating all kinds of havoc playing pranks on the dear Lord baby infant Jesus.
Since this war began in 2003 over Bens have died. Since this war began in 2003 over 4,000 Bens have families who received the heart breaking news that their Ben would not be returning to them.
This Veterans Day I’m praying for the quick and safe return of the Bens who are still out there with wives and babies waiting for them to come home.
hannah @ peggy ann design says
wow. chill bumps. thank you for your family’s service.
Helen says
Wow!! Beautiful post, as always :). Lot’s of little miracles happen all the time, sometimes God let’s us notice them. When we do, we just sit back and say thank You! Will add Ben’s family to my prayer list. And especially today, will be praying for all of the other Ben’s to come home soon and safe.
Galit Breen says
chills. lots of them. all over the place. i hope you can get this published. it’s amazing, touching and raw in all the right places. much love to all of you!
Tara says
Just discovered your blog, and trying to make my way through the archives.
This post is one of my favs. I wholeheartedly believe that everything happens for a reason, and your families intertwining as they have is no exception.
Lindsay says
I followed your link from today’s poem and I’m so glad that I did.
Nicole@MTDLBlog says
Beautiful post! You have such a wonderful way of saying things in just the right way. I have a group of friends that I recently wrote an article about for Military Spouse Magazine – they’re husbands are all on their 2nd or 3rd one year tours in Iraq or Afghanistan. They are my Ben’s. As were others I have known in recent years who have done their time there as well. Right now, the doctor who saved the lives of my twins is serving her tour in Iraq. It’s hard to find no one untouched by these wars.
OHN says
One of my first thoughts after hearing about the death of OBL was the thought of all of our heroes keeping us safe. The ones on the other side of the world, and the ones here on our own streets.
Brave is such a small word to describe the volumes of strength these men and women have, not to mention their families that wait at home for them to return.
There are too many Ben’s and it breaks my heart.
Jackie says
OHN said it best…. there are too many Bens. My husband is in the military, and whether it’s his deployment or someone else’s I’m always fearful. But signs like that give me hope.
I completely agree with your message in this post. Signs like this don’t take away the pain, but they do add strength. I’m so thankful you brought this post to my attention, as well as to the attention of your other newer followers as well.