Last month, I meant to get to a post to note my 2-year blog-iversary.

Hard to believe it's been two years since I started here.

The two-year blog-iversary came with some other milestones, too. I was named one of the Ten Best Milblogs in the VA Mortgage Center Blog contest. And more recently, I've been nominated for a Milbloggie. Pretty darned cool, to put it mildly - I can remember when I said to myself, how cool would it be to get nominated for a Milbloggie?.

I started blogging tentatively, after forwarding a few items to Patti. She finally turned the blog over to me, a responsibility I take seriously. I have always tried to stay true to what Patti started this for - to support our Heroes, to post lots of pictures in the hopes that those who knew the Heroes pictured would be able to see them, and to get out the good news about what our Heroes were doing. Nervously, I often asked Patti if something would be OK to post - especially when it concerned my early rants. Patti was always encouraging - "Anything you like, I like," she'd say. Pictures were always a large part of this blog, which is why you'll still find several posted daily. My favorites are the "My Hero..." posts. Anything that lets military families brag about their Heroes is OK by me.

A darker element of the beginning of my blogging days is that they started right about the time that we lost a young Hero named Gunnar Becker. I have posted about Gunnar before. He was very special to Soldiers' Angels, as is his Mom, Debey. It was Debey that let me know about an anti-war display that was using Gunnar's name, and then sent the pictures of how fallen Heroes should be honored. If you can today, please spare a moment to honor his memory. And let Debey know you're thinking of her. I have a special project to tell you about soon that Gunnar's memory, for me, plays a part in, but I'll save that for another post.

Then there was the other event marking my blog-i-versary this year - a bit of a shocker, actually, but in a very, very good way.

Another Soldier I've mentioned more than once is my first adoptee with Soldiers' Angels. I can remember the day I got his name in my email - I fired off my first excited letter, and was thrilled to get a reply pretty much immediately (almost two weeks to the day that I sent my letter off - pretty remarkable). My first adoptee was a Cavalry Scout, with a wife and a young daughter at home. We shared the same wry sense of humor, and we hit it off immediately. He became a sort of little brother to me, and I could predict the day letters would arrive from the land of sand. His picture is on my wall at work, there's an Iraqi bill in a frame on my desk, and there's a letter on my wall from his squad, thanking me for Halloween candy I sent. They all signed it.

Eventually, he was able to instant message me, and I remember one day, when he was talking with me about a very difficult day he'd had. I won't go into specifics, but he was asking me if his reaction - almost none - had been normal given what had happened. He asked me if it was messed up.

I can remember struggling for what to say, and I can remember when it hit me - 'Holy crap, I'm trying to cheer up a Soldier in a war zone. What the hell do I say here???'

'No,' I told him. 'It's not messed up. You're a Sergeant, and you were taking care of your men. You were doing your job. Remember what I told you - there's the you at home with your wife and your daughter, and there's Super Sarge. You'll be OK.'

'Then again,' I said, 'you're asking me what's normal in a war zone. I'm not sure there's any such thing. And how the heck would I know, anyway? I'd probably freak out if I did your job.'

'Yeah, you're paranoid of spiders,' he said - the first sign of his humor kicking in.

'Now, that's not fair. I'm telling you, just 'cause I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're NOT out to get me.'

And just like that, the darkness passed. He was laughing again - that was a good thing. By the end of the conversation, he was in really good spirits, and I was left hoping I'd helped.

It's a momentous thing to do what Angels do. For those of us who are lucky enough to get close to our adoptees, I think there comes a universal moment when you realize exactly what it is you're doing - trying to help, in whatever small way you can, to keep "your" Soldier (or Airman, or Sailor, or Marine) OK, trying to let them know what they mean to all of us.

My little bro hadn't really been specific about anything he was seeing until one letter I'd written. I had been travelling, and I'd seen the news - talking about a pretty ugly event in the area he was working in. I'd included in my letter the following sentiment.

Just want you to know, there is nothing you can ever do that will make me think of you as anything other than a Hero. I know that my father-in-law tells some stories that are pretty ugly about where he was, and judging from the few stories he thinks are fit to tell, I probably don't want to hear the other ones. I know enough to know that war is ugly. If you need to vent, vent. It will not change one thing about what I think of you. You are, and will always be, a Hero to me.

That must have unlocked something, because after that I got more glimpses into what it was to be a Soldier in Iraq. Nothing too specific - nothing that would violate OPSEC, of course, but little details here and there about what his life was like. Some funny, some scary, but each one a treasure in that they represented the fact that a Hero trusted me enough to share them.

I cried the day he told me he was coming home - most of that was joy and relief. Some, admittedly, was the fact that I'd miss talking with him. He promised to stay in touch, and part of what my husband referred to as his "coming home dream" was to come up and visit. In our last IM conversation before he left Iraq, I told him,

'It would be very cool to see you, and you're certainly welcome to visit, but I just want you to know that if you change your mind when you get home, that's OK. Things may change a lot once you actually get home to your wife and daughter.'

He insisted he still wanted to come and visit, and again I said he was welcome, but would not be hurt if he didn't. I also told him that whether we stayed in touch or not would be entirely up to him. Soldiers' Angels has a policy that once your Hero comes home, contact ends unless it's requested, initiated, by the Hero.

'I'm a part of a pretty ugly episode in your life,' I said, 'so I understand if you don't want to stay in touch. If you ever need me again, I'm here. I told you in my first letter - my support comes with no strings whatsoever. It's a privilege to have been your Angel.'

He was still insistent that he wanted to stay in touch. And, in truth, he did email me a little while after he got home to let me know he was home safe. After that, the emails got rarer, and then stopped. Much as I missed talking to him, I also took it as a good sign - if he didn't need to talk with me, then life was probably just motoring on, which was my hope all along. Come home safe, and get on with your life.

I emailed him all the major holidays his first year home, and heard from him a couple of times. The next year (this past one), I only emailed him once - on his birthday.

Much to my surprise, I got a reply. He thanked me for the birthday e-card, and told me how much it meant that I'd remembered his birthday. He also told me something else - he was headed back to Iraq.

He was a little nervous about it this time, to say the least. And he promised to stay in touch.

Then I got an email from Kuwait, letting me know he'd gotten there OK, and would email again when he got a chance.

And so I've come sort of full circle in my angelling. From the first day, when I got the email with my first Soldier's name, to now, nearly three years later, emailing with the same Soldier, it's been quite a journey.

Still the best thing I think I've ever done with my time. Bar none. I am humbled, and honored, and proud, to be able to enter the world of Heroes. And every blog entry I post, every letter that I write, every package that I send, is, in some small way, related to one Cav Scout with a dry sense of humor, and a wife and daughter at home.

Keep your helmet on, your head down, and your wits sharp, little bro - hubby and I are always here if you need us. And you are always, always our Hero.

Labels: Gunnar Becker, opinion, Soldiers' Angels, Supporting the troops, tributes