He is in the Wind

I don’t recall the moment it happened. I only know that one minute I was in an intense firefight, and in a flash, I was hovering over the noise and chaos.

Later, I watched, disconnected, as a steel casket draped with an American flag was loaded on board a transport aircraft. I knew I was not in that casket, and that I needed to be home, with her.

I needed her to know I was OK, that there was no pain, and that I was at peace. I couldn’t wipe away her tears as she cried out my name. And at the funeral, my hand softly touched her hair in the wind, as she was presented the flag, fixing her gaze upon the ground.

I wanted to tell her not to be sad. I wanted her to know I would never leave her. I wanted her to know that there is no death, and that the spirit lives eternal in the wind… in the beauty of nature.

On the day she went to The Wall, I went with her. She left a letter near my panel. It was a beautiful tribute to what once was ours. It was supposed to rain that day, but the sun shone, and it was a glorious day.

As she was leaving The Wall, I whispered “I love you.” She turned, and faced The Wall one last time. Then she walked away with the wind at her back.