The bathroom is finished.  Hallelujah.  Done.  I will start finishing up small details in the rest of the house.  Tony said he would come back, when I am ready for him, and hang drapes.

I went over to my old house and cut off some dried brown okra pods, and collected the seeds for next year.  Ann went with me to get some for her son.  It is a good feeling to collect seed that came from my father's garden from many years ago.  Probably 10th or 11th generation of those seeds.  Life continues.  My dad's okra seeds will be passed down to other generations.  That is a good feeling.

I was flipping channels last night and an episode on Nova caught my eye.  It was on the recovery of the remains of pilots from WW2 who were lost over water.  I shouldn't have watched it.  It was horribly sad, and close to my heart.  I have such a deep emotion for those who have served our country in the military.  Especially those who have come under enemy fire.

For me, the hard part of a program like that is seeing the faces of those men in uniform--taken before they went into combat.  So young.  So determined.  Their lives cut short and lost in some strange place.  Far from American soil.  It is such a great tragedy.

Of course, for me, programs like that hit too close to home.  My husband and both of my sons served in the military during war.  When I think of that, I get a catch in my throat.  I know the stress and anxiety that comes with waiting.  Waiting.  Not knowing.  Fearful, but resigned.  You have no idea whether or not they will come home to you.  Or how they will come home to you.  Or if.

I carry a key chain with a picture of Ken on it.  He is twenty-two or twenty-three years old and is sitting in a Corsair, getting ready to take off on a mission in Korea.  He has a one thousand-yard stare, looking into nothing, not knowing what will happen after he takes off.  He is so young.  He is one of the ones who lived to come home.   Thank God.

But for every warrior that comes home, there are dozens who don't.  I have lived on the reverse side of war for three of my men.  The waiting side.  My heart breaks for those who waited, and who never found out what happened.  And for those who did.