Reality

My mom's cousin called this week to tell my mom that her son, Gary, a Marine, was killed in Iraq.

While I should not have been shocked at the news, I really was. You see, my mom's hometown has a history of men going to war...and men coming home again. Gary is the first soldier killed in the line of duty from my mom's hometown. WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, first Persian Gulf...They ALL came home, which is a miraculous thing. In fact, my grandfather helped construct a grotto in front of the church in honor of all soldiers who served and in thanks for their safe return. It worked until now.

What makes the story even more tragic is that Gary was named after an uncle (also Gary) who was killed in Vietnam. (The uncle wasn't from Windthorst, obviously.) Who could have known? Who would have wanted to? He played on the football team that won a state championship. He worked hard. He came from a good family. You know the story.

Anyway, my mom will attend the funeral, which will be attended by an estimated 800 people. She is being put on standby to sing- in case Gary's godmother can't go through with it. I am so saddened by the news, but I am grateful to be a part of such a place. Growing up, Windthorst was my second home- Even though my mom got married and moved away, I was treated (and still am treated) like one of their own. I hope Gary's entire family feels that way, too.

May he rest in peace.