For the past four months, we have been fighting our own war for both my sister's and mother's lives. Each battle has been in our favor so far. I am so grateful for that.
A little over a week ago, my husband sent me a link. A young father, who is a soldier, lost his life in Afghanistan. I saw his name and realized it was the older brother of a past student in Fosston. It took my breath away realizing our biggest fear had come true for them - they had lost a their sibling, their son, their father, and a husband. They were facing my nightmares -
I always liked this family. I sat with this soldier's parents one evening on a fan bus. They were some of the nicest people I ever met. I really enjoyed their son in my classroom, and I loved hearing their stories of their family. Just real home spun people - - very modest and knew what was important in life to them - family, hobbies, God, and travel. I talked so much to them I nearly wore myself out from all my laughter.
In a T.V. interview, the soldier's dad said that he was sad to lose his son, but he knew where his son is now, and that was a comfort, but he felt so bad that his grandchildren lost their father. I get that.
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