I have been trying to put into words what I felt when seeing my brother off a few weeks ago. It was so difficult seeing the children crying for their parents and the young boys, some not even of legal drinking age, crying from fright. I know it's morbid but the worst part of that deployment ceremony was looking around knowing not all of the soldiers were going to be coming home alive. All you could do was wonder who was coming home in a body bag. It's morbid, but it's true. You think, Is this the last time I will see him alive? and you try to memorize every word that was said, every facial expression, every laugh and smile. You can't help but wonder if you will be the one at a funeral where Taps is played and your mother is handed an American flag. Is it wrong to hope it happens to someone else's family instead of yours? The young wife next to you is probably thinking the same thing, but it doesn't appease the guilt you feel for wishing it were her husband instead of your brother.

Writing all of this down is cathartic, but it makes me feel like such a horrendous person for having these thoughts.