Death Day

That's what Sweetie calls this day. December 5th. The day he defied death. On this day, in 2004, my husband was shot in the neck by a sniper in Iraq. The bullet pierced the right side of his neck and came out on the left side of his neck/upper shoulder area. It's hard to explain the positioning, but suffice it to say that there is no worldy explanation for why my husband can still walk and talk, let alone is still breathing.

The man that shot him was a sniper in the Al Queada network. He had a man with him that they call a "spotter". The spotter is the guy that looks through binoculars and give coordinates to the sniper so he doesn't miss the target. They were an expert pair. At the very second the bullet was rocketing toward my husband, aimed right between the eyes, he turned to look at an Iraqi kid that he'd seen in a totally different town, a child that he couldn't stand. Then he was hit. I can't even do justice to the story, since when he tells it the detail and emotion are so intense. He had an angel that day. No question. He should not be alive, but God has great plans for my husband, and he's still here because the Lord was with him.

My side of the story is the aftermath. Sweetie called me himself to tell me he'd been shot because the military usually does, but he knew I'd never believe he was alive if they called. I will never forget that day. He waited on the phone for a half hour so I would get to the destination I was going to, so I wouldn't lose it while driving the car. When he told me he'd been shot in the neck, I lost it. I crumpled to the ground on my grandma's porch, in the freezing cold, and just cried. He kept telling me he was ok, but I didn't believe him. I was so....broken. Losing him would have meant losing myself. He defines me. I had two babies at home, and I didn't know how to tell them their daddy was hurt. I didn't even have enough courage to ask him if he was paralyzed. I think the reason I didn't ask was because it didn't matter. I didn't care if he came home paralyzed, missing parts, blind, deaf, disfigured. All I cared about was that he came home to me alive. As long as he was still breathing, we could deal with everything else. As long as I could still touch him, still kiss him, still hear his voice as he held me at night, nothing else mattered.

Once we got off the phone, I went inside. My mom was there with me and my boys and grandma, and I had to look into her eyes, while my babies watched, and tell her that Sweetie had been shot. That day was the scariest day of my life. I didn't have any answers for all the questions, other than to say he was alive. To this day, I can't hardly even type this without bawling like a baby. Everyday I thank God that he spared my husband's life. Everyday I remind myself that no matter what happens, we've already been through the worst.

So, today I am, again, thankful for my husband. I am so in love with him, and I don't care that we deal with health issues or war issues even still. I care only that he's here with me, helping raise our children. I care only that no matter what the day brings, when I go to bed at night, he's there beside me. We deal with quite a few issues because of the military and the time Sweetie spent in the warzone. We deal with health issues that will never get better. We deal with a brain injury that could deteriorate at any moment, and still, there is nothing we can do about it. But I wouldn't trade it. I wouldn't change a thing about our life together, because the key word is *together*. I've loved this man for more than half my life, and I will love him until I die.