was it worth it?

We all know how much Facebook has affected our lives in one way or another. Tonight, while perusing the site as usual, 2nd Brigade 4th Infantry Division posted pictures of their HHC 1-67 AR Change of Responsibility ceremony. Yes, they have a Facebook page - who doesn't these days? And nice for all those families of units who are deployed because they get to see pictures of what's going on while their spouse is gone.

In case you've forgotten, this is the unit Jason deployed with to Afghanistan from Fort Carson. I quickly looked through the pictures, your ordinary military ceremony with the flags and such. They are currently deployed to Kuwait and should return this summer.

But here's the kicker…none of them are the same people that Jason deployed with almost 3 years ago. Again, in typical military fashion, most of the guys he was with, PCS'd around September after they returned. You can tell when it's PCS season in a military town. You can just feel it in the air, there are moving trucks on every street, and there's a bit of a lull at the birthing center as everyone comes and goes and gets settled.

So as I'm flipping through the pictures, I'm thinking, "None of these guys have any idea who Jason, or the other two guys who lost their legs for this unit (and country) are."

"The leadership doesn't even know."

"Everyone has gone their separate ways and all but forgotten."

"What was the point?"

I mean obviously, the point was not to have people remember him forever. And even more obviously, there are thousands more who sacrificed so much more.

But I can't help but wonder if it was really worth it.

I am grateful to live in the US, and Jason has received nothing but top notch care from the start of all this - though some believe military care is horrible, I strongly disagree, and will save that argument for another day!

But, almost three years later, am I allowed to wonder why? Because from what Jason tells me, he's fairly bitter about it all, too. Yes, he signed up for it, and he's fully aware of that. So am I. We've never asked for sympathy, just new legs.

He still gets stopped and thanked by strangers, and all I can think is "But do you really understand what we went through during recovery and learning a new normal?" When what I should be thinking is "How nice! Someone going out of their way to show their appreciation. It is rare these days!" So I just smile and answer "Yes he's in the military, yes he lost his leg in Afghanistan…" Then when he comes back, they thank him for his service and say something about how much of a hero he is or whathaveyou. And Jason almost always responds with "Eh it's no big deal, I was just doing my job!"

I hate that response. Yes, it's the truth, but it's so humble it makes me sick! I think sometimes he wishes he had a way cooler story than what actually happened, though I'm quite happy with how it turned out, because it could have been way worse.

This is a long winded way to say - what the hell were they doing over there anyway? What was the mission? Why have I waited three years to wonder this in such detail? Why did three guys need to lose a right leg and change their lives forever? Because the COP they were defending and clearing paths to, is closed now. No one even goes there anymore. So, why?

Does this mean either of us are against what everyone is there for? No. Jason is a honorable man, and will do any job he is asked, regardless of risk - very obviously. But, I might have a little bit of a harder time understanding this. When, in my job, one of the biggest ethos (I doubt I'm using that word in the correct context) is "First, do no harm…"

People lose limbs every day, as we've seen, so why should we be any different? We shouldn't. But when you lose a part of your body so traumatically, grieving still has to happen. We are clearly still going through it. Just the other night, right before falling asleep, he said "I still can't believe I'm missing a leg." While I'm over here thinking "Hm, I'm pretty used to it now, I guess." But I can be, because I'm not the one going through it. He is. He always will be. I get to forget about it. He can't.

And I still haven't figured out why.