Wednesday, February 18, 2009

A mother's eyes~

Kevin Preach

It was snowing the day my son called from his college dorm to tell me that a former high school classmate, a Marine, had been badly injured in Afghanistan. The truck he was in had driven over an IED. Kevin had lost both legs and was badly burned.

Kevin was in a coma, Dave said. Could I get him the family's address so he could send something? Friends were rallying, supporting Kevin's girlfriend, collecting money for the family, gathering on Facebook to console. There was hope; there always is, especially when you're young.

After I hung up, I pulled on boots and gloves and went out to shovel the driveway.

I cried . . . because Kevin is too young to suffer like that, because he is one of so many who suffer, and because I didn't think he'd live.

He didn't.

He was buried today [Feb. 2009]. The funeral and procession to the cemetery were covered on the local news, like so many we've seen through the years: small town, friends and neighbors holding hands. Flag draped coffin.

The TV camera caught Kevin's mother, zoomed in, and held her face. Her empty eyes, as she watched her son's coffin pass, spoke louder than cries of grief. The eternal question silently screamed, leaving tears to be shed later...

Why?

It snowed again today. And I cried again . . . because Kevin was too young to die, because he's one of so many, and because I saw his mother's eyes.
~~~~~

God sees us through our Mothers' eyes. ~Ganeshan Venkatarman

~~~~~
Lance Corporal Kevin T. Preach, United States Marine Corps, died February 7, 2009, from injuries sustained during an attack while serving in Afghanistan in support of Operation Enduring Freedom. Kevin was a Machine Gunner with 2nd Marine Division 3/8 Weapons Company. He was age 21.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

World's End~



Sometimes when the world is full of madness and mayhem and I'm tired of it all, I grab my camera and head out to focus on something that's not on TV or the radio, not in the newspaper or the Internet.

Today I drove forty minutes a place called World's End. I don't know who named it, or why, but I'm guessing because it feels like the edge of the world where land meets sea.

The world at large indeed faded away as the beauty of this spot--rolling hills jutting into the ocean, whisk broom trees scratching a cloudless sky--seeped into my soul.

I was by myself, but not alone. Others were also trekking the snow covered lanes. There is nothing like the rhythmic crunching of footsteps in the snow, huffing and puffing a little, sweating a lot, birdsong, and warm sun, to melt the frustrations of the real world.

Or maybe this is the real world. I wish . . .
~~~~~
It is said that the world is in a state of bankruptcy, that the world owes the world more than the world can pay.~Ralph Waldo Emerson