Things I was too scared to say a week ago

Having a loved one overseas means that person is constantly on your mind. No matter what the case, no matter the topic, they're always there.

The news made me think of K -- I wonder how far from K those people were who got killed. The clock made me think of K -- It's almost lunch time here; he's probably already in bed there. The weather made me think of K -- I wonder what it feels like there. Hanging out with friends made me think of K -- I wish he was here.

There were so many worries, so many questions I had. I didn't dare say them aloud, though, because that's acknowledging they can happen.

What if something happens to him? How will I find out? They'll go to his dad. Does he have my number? Or will he start calling family, and then K's cousin's wife will call me? What if it happens while I'm at work? Oh, God ... I'd have to leave work and spend 45 minutes on mass transportation bawling my eyes out. Where would I go? Maybe someone would drive me to my car from work ...

What if he comes back injured? What if he loses a body part? What if he's permanently disabled? What if he gets disfigured? What if he sees something terrible and is never the same?

I prayed every day that if K came back different -- all the while realizing that it's probably pretty much impossible to go somewhere like Afghanistan, a poor country that's been at war for years, and not be changed -- it would be with a greater appreciation for what he has and what we have simply for living in the United States. I prayed that he and his soldiers would be protected and would do good work there. I prayed they would all come back healthy, safe and only for the better.

What if when he comes home things aren't the same between us? What if what we have is just gone? What would I do?

A friend of mine in college was engaged to a Marine in Iraq. He was supposed to be back in the U.S. in two weeks when there was a knock on the door of her sorority house. Two Marines arrived to tell her that her fiance had been killed hours earlier. He was supposed to be home in two weeks.

My friend Cody was supposed to be home in 30 days when he and another guy were hit by a roadside bomb, and he was burned over 50 percent of his body. That was in September, and he's still recovering in the hospital.

I saw on the news a story about an Air Forcce woman who had simply gone to the mall in Kyrgyzstan and hadn't been seen since. She was supposed to be home in two weeks. K had been to Kyrgyzastan on his way to Afghanistan. He liked it. That was before the woman went missing.

All of those stories kept me from getting excited when I found out K would be home soon. In those three cases, those people's families had started getting excited. Like me, they'd probably started making lists of what to do before the person got home -- what foods to buy or to prepare, special gifts to get ... It's terrible to think you can get that close to seeing the person and they can still be taken from you, just when you're getting close to relief.

Every scenario, every risk and every horror runs through your mind while they're gone, torturing you in a way that's hard to understand unless you've been there. You push it as far back as you can, but it's still there. But life has to go on. You still have to go to work, you still have to sleep and you still have to go about life like those thoughts aren't there. That's why it means so much to talk to someone who's been there.

If you know someone who has a loved one overseas, call them. Even if it's just for a quick hello. I promise -- the distraction will mean the world to them.