Good Line

As some of you may have heard, my cousin died Saturday night. He served two tours in Iraq, was enrolled in college for the fall and was settling back into life in Pennsylvania. The local newspaper had an article: Mishap kills Tyrone Veteran.He was twenty-two.

Twenty-two.

Veterans are old men who served in World War II or Korea or Vietnam or at latest, the Gulf Wars. Veterans aren't men a year older than me. Veterans aren't twenty-two. People who are twenty-two don't have to go away and fight for their countries and see things that no person of any age should have to see. And they should not have to survive all of that, live through all of that, only to come back to die in an accident, a pointless tragedy that brings more pain to their family than a death overseas might.

Veterans are twenty-two. Veterans are nineteen. Veterans are men and women who have fought because their country asked for someone to fight, who have been courageous because that is what their path in life demanded of them. There is a whole new generation of veterans. Remember them. Treat them well. Understand them and respect them. Make them proud of the land they fight for.

I just don't see how it's fair, how it could ever be fair, how it could ever be right. That's my cousin. My cousin. My aunt's son. Would I be making a fuss over someone else's son in the paper? No, for better or for worse, I don't go looking through the paper to see the unfairness and pain in the world, though, truth be told, I wouldn't have far to look. This one story was brought to me. And it's not right.

It's not right that I should be here fine and someone else shouldn't have the chance to live out the rest of their life. It's not right that I should have the chance to worry about tiny things like my current odd propensity to be socially awkward (I apologize ahead of time, I must not have spent enough time around people). It's not right that I should have the time to maintain all these regrets, things I've said that I didn't mean to be taken that way, actions I've taken, actions I haven't taken, things I haven't said. I have the chance every day of my life to breathe again free air and start over. I have the chance to live a great life, I have the opportunity to be wonderful for someone, I have the whole world in front of me. The parents have the rest of my life to be proud of me, to talk to me, to hug me, to tell stories about me and watch me be embarrassed, to see me grow up, start a family, to see me have children of my own. They don't have to bury their child.

My mom was sending me the link to the article on Chris and she told me to keep the family in my prayers because "I think you have a good line to God." Really God, do I? Do I have a good line to You? Does that mean that if I had kept on praying once he got back from Iraq, my family wouldn't be gathering for another funeral? Does that mean that You'll explain it all to me, that you'll drop comforting phrases down from heaven to heal the heart of my aunts and uncles, my cousins, my grandparents, my parents? Does this mean that You'll make it at least bearable? And is that all the mercy I have saved up on my account?