Sooner or Later…

Bad news on the doorstep;  I couldn’t take one more step.       Don McLean “American Pie”

Some days are just like that.  We were at my oldest dd’s home when the letter came for her husband.  He had joined the Marines as a 17 yo, 9/11 occurred just before 18, and was invading Bagdad at just past 19.  After two tours of duty the end of enlistment and return home was beautiful to behold.

But the end of enlistment isn’t the end of military commitment.  The government has a list of inactive members and can call up for four years after separation.  With this war they are not calling up first year members–they need the break.  Nor are they calling up fourth year members–there isn’t enough time.  So the burden falls heavily on the second and third year list.

DD wasn’t home when the letter arrived.  We had driven over to pick up some extra fence boards and a quick hello.  The letter itself was brief:  Meeting in Memphis on August 11th and other relevant details.  Another page for what the penalties are for not attending.  Quite the host is our government.

We waited several days before asking daughter what their thoughts were.  Confidently she replied that they believe the meeting is to begin the paperwork for his final exit from military life.  Good…

Until that night when I woke thinking “wait, he started college as soon as he got home.  He is beginning his junior year.  He is just starting his third year NOT his fourth as dd had suggested.”

It is possible that the meeting is about paperwork.  Every branch of the government is fond of paperwork and perhaps the final papers take a long time to process.  Perhaps…

But she forgets, her daddy and I have been around awhile.  I watched my uncle’s death become one of the first agent orange cover-ups.  We have seen the ways of government.  We have seen love brush aside bad news to protect loved ones as long as possible.  We are realists: not pessimists, not day dream believers. 

What can we say but “good…tell us how the meeting goes.”  Adult children have a right to confront the reality of their lives on their own terms, and to choose the terms of sharing that reality with their families.  But that doesn’t mean we can’t worry and hope and perhaps even dip a toe into the pool of “they know what they are talking about”.  But only a toe.