"If my heart can talk, it will not stop."

"If my heart can talk, it will not stop."

Today is election day, as well as the second day of November.  In five days, it will again be the anniversary of Fallujah.  Of course, it annually conjures up memories...

In 2004, on election night, it had been many days since I last talked to my husband.  On the 30th of October, we suffered a devastating loss when a suicide bomber attacked a convoy and lost seven eight Marines. (I find it sad that I can't even recall the exact number of men lost at times because it happened so often during this time; not necessarily with 1/3, but altogether with all four Marine battalions in Fallujah during that time -- the article says seven, but it was actually eight).  We found out on Halloween that year about it.  I was sitting downstairs with my landlords passing out candy to trick-or-treaters when Mary called me to tell me about the loss (from the Key Volunteer Network, she passed information to us before it hit the newswire).  At that time, it was the single largest loss of life since the war began.  Sadly, 1/3 trumped that one again in January when the CH-53e helicopter went down and took 31 Marines and Navy corpsmen with it.

With all of those feelings so fresh on election day 2004, and with the climate surrounding us at the time, the election seemed so important.  I sat with my friends next door, Michelle and Tony (who was also a Marine with 3rd Radio BN) and watched the elections results coming in.  It had been at least a week since I last heard from Casey and everything was so vague; he couldn't tell me much about what was going on.  I knew that he had more information than he was letting on.  It pained me to know so little about their actions over there.  What he could have told me, I don't know.  There was scuttlebutt in the news about the "major offensive" coming up in Fallujah, but I didn't even know he was near Fallujah.  It was such a volatile time and so heartwrenching.  That first loss, of those seven eight Marines, set the tone and put us all in a constant state of angst.

Can you imagine wanting your husband to receive a non-life-threatening wound so he would be sent home and be safe because you were that scared he was going to die?  

That is what started right then, and it didn't stop until well into 2005.  There is some immense guilt that comes with feelings like that.  I still feel horrible about ever feeling that way, ever wishing he would get injured so that he could come back seems like the worst thing I could have felt, or wanted.  I am ashamed of it, but that is the truth.  That is just how terrified we all were.  I was not the only wife who felt this way.  I was not the only wife who silently wished this, and I am sure I am not the only one who feels damaged because of how severely we wanted our husbands home safely.

So, although we've had several elections since 2004, for some reason I am feeling very pensive about things this year.  Perhaps it's because I am actually getting people to listen to me about Peralta's MOH nomination and travesty of our system that it has become...or perhaps it's because it's November, again.

The month of November conjures up these memories, without fail, every single year.  I have come to appreciate the power of getting those memories out, even if it is just to this web space.