I grew up in a home with a father who read and studied everything he could get his hands on regarding World War II. In addition, he had two brothers who served in the Army during that war. Because of this I learned a few things by reading his books and listening to his stories. I was most intrigued by the communications between the soldiers and their families.

I heard and read about wives sending love letters to their husbands, mothers sending letters of care and concern to their sons, fathers sending letters expressing pride, and children sending stories and pictures to their dads. Most letters were mailed hoping they would actually reach the hands of their loved ones. Families did not know if their letters arrived safely to the recipients, and at times they did not know where their soldiers were located. I am guessing prayers were prayed and candles were lit as extra precaution to help ensure the safety of their family members and the safe return of all those fighting in the war.

The first time my son was sent to the war in Iraq by the U.S. Army I was prepared to write letters of care, concern, and support. I was expecting to wonder if my letters would reach him. I was prepared to not know where he would be located. I purchased candles to put in my window to light his way home, and I prayed for the safe return of all those fighting in the war, especially my son.

During that first deployment, I received phone calls with a bit of an overseas delay, but the sound was very clear. I woke up to e-mails on the computer and received little gifts in the mail. I remember saying to my husband, “This is great! It’s like he is just down the street.” I also remember my husband saying, “I don’t know.” That is all he said even though I tried to get him to elaborate on his thoughts and feelings. I remember thinking, what does he know that I am missing?

One morning on New Years Day, I received a call from a female soldier we know. She called to wish everyone a Happy New Year. She was calling from Iraq, and with the time change her New Year’s Day was coming to an end. She was right in the middle of expressing how much she missed home when there was the sound of a loud explosion in the background. She said in her sergeant’s tone of voice, “I have to go!” I said, “Wait. What was that noise? Was that a bomb?” “Yes!” she said. “I have to go. Tell everyone hi and I love them.” With that the line went dead, and there was no further communication for the next several weeks.

As I replaced the phone in its cradle, I had a horrible knot in my stomach. “Was she safe?” “Was the base safe?” “Were they under attack?” “Were people being hurt?” There were no answers to my questions at that time. Months later when I saw her and asked about the explosion that went off while we were talking on the phone, she couldn’t even remember the event. She said, “Oh, there are explosions going off all the time over there. Who knows what was happening on that day?”

As my son prepares to leave on his sixth or seventh deployment, I too am preparing for his departure. I know I will talk to him on the phone, and there will be an overseas delay. I know it’s possible a brutal sand storm may come up without warning, and he might have to hang up abruptly. I am preparing to put our conversation on hold while a helicopter or two or three lands right outside his tent. I am preparing to hear loud explosions when we talk on the phone. I know he might write that he needs an extra homemade blanket from Mom because of the extreme temperature changes from day to night when he’s freezing. But most importantly, I am preparing to expect the unexpected.

I am the owner of Woodworker Life Coaching located in Sacramento, CA.  http://www.woodworkerLifeCoaching.com