Far Worse than Simple Demise

It’s interesting to me the way outsiders see our lives.  There are so many uncomfortable questions asked, and our answers never seem to quench the interests of the inquisitors.  We have all formulated our responses in advance to deflect the attention and hopefully be able to continue pushing our grocery cart through Target.  There are also answers that the general public doesn’t really want to hear.  It would be too unsettling for them. Every now and again, I feel like handing them what they asked for. There is one question in particular that makes me cringe and I’m likely to answer it truthfully. It certainly will shut a person up, and possibly haunt them for a while.  They won’t ask a military family member again, “Aren’t you afraid he’ll die”?  That one’s a doozey.  Personally, this question has only been presented to me twice, but I hear from fellow military families that they hear it often from family, old friends and even strangers.  Let me address this question and its apparent lack of thoughtfulness on the questioner’s part.  
Yes, we are afraid that our loved ones will die.  We are also afraid that his best friend will die or that one of his soldiers will die.  I take every loss personally.  Whether it is a soldier I have not met, or a marine I hear about on the news, a little piece of my heart dies.  Every helicopter that comes crashing to the ground cradling allied forces knocks the wind out of me.  I am afraid that he will die.  I have also cultured an understanding that dying isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a soldier.  I have seen what burns look like.  I spoke with an NCO several years ago who survived an IED attack, but sustained third degree burns on 80% of his body.  His fingers were stubs.  His nose was gone along with his eyelids.  Where his ears had been remained only holes.  He was active duty, non-deployable, but still very much an asset to our Army.  His experience is invaluable. Although he was grateful for his life, he believed he had survived a sentence far more morbid than death.  I have to agree with him.  
In a world where unspeakable horrors are just part of the job, death has lost a bit of its sting.  Many of us realize that death comes with the territory. We are hoping that our soldiers come home in one piece.  Many soldiers leave only fragments behind for their families to bury.  There will be no closure for the grieving.  There will be no last viewing.  In a casket somewhere, sits a vacant dress uniform pinned with medals. To the dead, it doesn’t matter.  To the living, it is a gaping wound that will never heal.  Their wives or fiancés or siblings went to Afghanistan and will never return home.   If you ask a military mother or wife this silly, inconsiderate question, I hope their answer sounds like this, “Die?  Well, sure I’m afraid he will die.  I’m more afraid that he will come home in pieces or that his remains will not be distinguishable from the other soldiers who are blown apart with him, or that he will come home physically but have left his battered spirit to die over there”.