Detour

Today was a was a stressful day. Unpacking. Getting back into a routine. Paying bills. Making calls.
I met some of my family for lunch, and got caught up on what happened with the Thrashers while I was gone.
And that's when I realized that no matter how hell-bent I am on appreciating life and living for the moment, that the universe can just kick anyone square in the ass.
My step-brother, Van, could have been killed the other day. He's in the beginning of a 12-month Afghanistan deployment with the Army. And early this week, his boss and roommate were blown up two trucks behind his. Five people total died.
I found myself sitting in a Mexican restaurant, completely shocked at how this news seemed like it was just part of his job. Like getting blown up is part of the deal. In my head I realize that, yes, as a soldier he is absolutely putting his life on the line. But I didn't think anything would seriously happen.
And then I wondered...what would happen if it was Van in that truck. I wondered what his wife Tara would tell their 13-month-old daughter Ryleigh about her daddy. Or if my step-mom Kim would ever laugh as loud or smile as wide. Or if his sister Karen would feel like a part of her was gone, too.
The course of their lives, and those they influence, would change forever. Ryleigh would not grow up complete. Tara wouldn't know what to say. Kim would never smile or laugh the same. And Karen would feel like part of her died.
Their nature, their very being, would change. And that would in turn change everyone they would come in contact with for the rest of their lives.
I began going down the list, thinking of everyone who's life would change from one life lost. Everyone. One life lost changes everyone. It changes the course of lives, dreams and futures. The smallest change in each of those people changes their path, and the path of those they meet.
I'm packing a care package for Van this week. I love Van, and want him to know I'm thinking of him. He's a huge Hokie fan, and that's how we bond.
But I just can't think of anything else to put in the box. I just can't think of what you can send someone that came so close to the end. I feel like adding a note to the box of gum, game and deodorant that says something like "Van. Please don't die. Don't change the course of our lives. It's going to good with you in it. And we need you in it."
And so I'm going to bed, sad that five people died. Five people will not leave the complete mark they were left to make. And countless others are changed forever. I'm counting the days until Van is home safe. And I'm counting our blessings that he's safe. at least for one more night.