Eight Years

Me and My Man

Me and My Man


Next month on the 20th will be the 8th Anniversary of Robb’s death in Iraq. For some people this will seem like a long time, but for me it feels like yesterday only a little different.
Before I would get calls from guys in the unit to see how I was doing. Now that never happens. Well I can’t honestly say never, Dave does keep in contact via Facebook, as well as a couple of others. I’m thankful that they have.
I know some people have pushed the thought of Robb’s death out of their heads, and that’s OK. For some of the guys on the team they will never forget that day. I can’t even imagine what they went through on that day and the days following. It hurts my heart to even think about what Robb’s team went through. Some may have survivors guilt and some may feel guilty because they didn’t “save” Robb.
From where I sit, that day was just around the corner and it seems at times like yesterday. My life changed drastically after Robb’s death and there are days when every thing is so overwhelming I don’t know which way to go. Those are the days I really wish Robb was still with me, so he could take care of that other stuff. I’m alone most of the time, unless you count me being with my dog Brodie. I really think the dog should be taken out of the equation. He’s a great dog, but you can’t hold a conversation with him.
That’s one of the things I miss most. I miss our conversations. Robb and I would talk about what was going on, about the kids, ourselves, life in general all the time. Those talks were some of the best time I had with Robb. Once we were down in Arizona visiting Robb’s parent’s and his younger brother. Well, Robb had to talk and he wanted privacy, not unusual at all. We were at his brother’s house so we went into his brothers bedroom and layer on the bed and started talking. NO we really were talking. In the middle of our conversation his brother’s wife came in and told us that the comforter we were laying on was $300 or $400 and we needed to get off of it. That was the end of our conversation. I don’t even remember what we were talking about, but I do remember how important those conversations were to Robb. They were important to me too, and now I never EVER have one. I think that is the single most thing I miss about being a military widow. That snipers bullet just didn’t kill Robb, it killed my conversations with the best guy I have ever met!

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One thought on “Eight Years

  1. My heart goes out to you. Unless you go through this you fully can’t understand it. The closest I’ve come is a death of a marriage. That took a huge toll & I felt lonliness, but I know this still doesn’t compare to yours.

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