Why I am blogging

I am sitting here wondering why I feel the need to blog, I am not sure, I guess I am hoping that it will help me get through this grief and pain I am feeling right now. You see, 3 months, 2 weeks and 3 days ago my husband, the father of my soon to 5 and 3 1/2 year old little girls was killed in Iraq. I will forever remember that day, I was on the phone with a very good friend whom I had drifted away from in the last few years, but she called me out of the blue and I returned her call after putting the girls to bed. We had not been talking long and I was walking out to my garage to put some items way, and I heard that knock, the one that you know you cannot ignore, the one that gives you goose bumps. Since I was outside, I decided to peak around my garage door and see who in the heck was knocking at my door at 815pm. I saw the two men, dressed in their A's, solemn and grief stricken and my heart sank, my mind screamed no, no, no. I remember telling K. that I had to go, that I would call her later and hardley being able to speak, almost hanging up because my words would not come. As I walked into my home, with the two men following me, I thought what is going on, why, how, are they sure?! As I reflect back on that moment, I know that for some reason I was meant to be talking to K, I feel that our conversation was a sign from my husband that I need to remember who has helped me through the tough times and lean on her. Thank you K! I will forever remember thinking, how in the hell am I going to tell Faith that her Papa is not coming home, ever. I knew she was going to be the hardest to tell, Brenna, our youngest is to little to completly understand. The night I told my daughters that their papa was not coming home was the hardest thing I have ever had to do to them. It was Monday night, around 5pm and I finally had seen them for the second time that day, my good friend and neighbor, kept them for me, stayed with us and helped me immensely with my babes. As I sat on the couch telling my daughters, my Faith looked at me and her face crumbled, her eyes welled with tears and she screamed, wailing louder than I have ever heard her wail in my life. She did not ask why, how and get angry then, she just cried and cried, then 20 minutes later it was over. Bren on the other hand, cried a little, sitting in Miss K's lap and did not quite get it, she just knew that she should be sad, that something bad happened to make mama cry and Faith scream. All I could think was, damnit! I am not supposed to be telling this to a 4 year old and a 3 year old, this is not fair to them. My heart was broken and shattered, but I tell you, I could feel it crumbeling even more as I told my babes that papa was not ever going to be coming home, that he was in an accident in Iraq and was killed, that his body was hurt so bad that he stopped breathing. That he was in heaven, now our angel and will always be in our heart. Even now as I write this, I think the same thing and wonder why, what is the reason for all of this right now and just want to scream. However, I do not scream as much as I used too, I feel it, but it does not come out as often. These last three months have been something out of a "chick-flick"(as my husband often called my movies) with the saddest ending possible, I feel as though at times I am looking at my life right now through a window and want so desperatly to move away and not watch anymore, but unfortunatly, I am living it and it is not a window that I can move away from. I do know that in time, I will start getting stronger, that in time, I will be ok. I also know that he will never be gone from my life, that he will never be away from us. I feel him with me often and know that he is giving me strength when I need to do the hardest things right now. I look at our girls and I see him, although my oldest looks a lot like me, she has her papa's eyes, his lips and smile and nose, his sense of humor and type A personality, and of course his black hair, my youngest has the Cahill bum, the cahill build, his head shape, his ears and the twinkle in her eyes that my husband had, the Irish eyes. I see those girls and I think of him, I remind myself how fortunate I am to have these babes, the two most precious gifts he ever gave me, they get me through each day, they keep me going every day and remind me of why I need to be strong and how I need to move through this hardest moment in life and get through for them, for us and for their papa and what he would want. I wish it was not so, if I could get my way, Nov 6th, 2005 would never have happened, Nov 11th, 2005 there would not have been a memorial service for him and Nov 18, 2005 I would not have had to bury him in Arlington with all the other hero's who have given the ulitimate sacrifice for our freedom and our country. Those days are forever burned in my mind, my heart and my soul. Those are days that I will never forget.