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War in Iraq creates
a disconnect in paradise

My husband is active duty Army, currently stationed in Iraq. Regardless of his assurances, I am oh so scared he might not make it home. Our two young grandchildren would lose a beloved grandpa. Our three grown kids would dearly miss their dad. And I don't know how I could possibly live without my best friend. I can't imagine the impact his death would have. I can't imagine the deep, deep pain almost 1,900 American families feel, knowing a son or a daughter, a husband or a wife, will never again be with them for a chat, a meal, a smile.

I've heard it said that at any one time, 200 or more people could say they know us. They may know us only by name. They may love us dearly. Let's play with the numbers.

We have approximately 140,000 American troops in Iraq. That means 28 million Americans know someone stationed in Iraq. Twenty-eight million of us. No wonder more and more Americans disagree with the course of this war. Of those 28 million, almost 1,900 families are reeling from the shock of their loved ones' deaths. Whether you think this war is justified or whether you think this war is unconscionable, experiencing the grieving is wrenching.

My husband is in a relatively safe area of Iraq. As safe as he can be, anyway, in that war-torn country. How have I adapted? Many days, not very well at all.

I tentatively approach the peace movement. I join others in Military Families Speak Out. On March 19, I attended the Peace Rally in Fayetteville, N.C., home of Ft. Bragg. My intention was to hide behind a bush. Really. Well, I could not find that bush. So I bravely spoke to reporters. This wasn't like me. My introverted self wasn't so sure this was a good idea. Nevertheless, I found my voice. Some would say I'm unpatriotic. Sorry, folks. I'm as red, white and blue as you can get.

Of course, my husband must support the president. That's a given. A service member cannot do otherwise. Military culture dictates an unwritten rule for family members. You will not disagree with the administration. You, too, should toe the line. You should not voice your concerns about the war. This perception makes it difficult to speak up. Yet, I am.

Even before the Iraq war began, even before my husband knew of his deployment, I knew how wrong it was to use a pre-emptive strike. Millions around the world agreed with me. Millions.

I am grieving. I am separated from my husband. Yes, I am fortunate that my husband is alive. No, I really have no idea what it must feel like to grieve the actual death of a loved one due to this war. Even so, I, too, grieve.

Life around me goes on "as usual." Our little white-eyes continue to delight. They quickly hop from here to there, bringing smiles. Our chameleon blends in with the greenery. You would think its bright green coloring would work against it. It doesn't. The plumeria tree is bursting with its yearly crop of fragrant pink blossoms. They say, "Yes, you live in paradise."

The war rages on. We are told we must stay the course, regardless of the futility of staying the course. The disconnect continues. How can life go on "as usual" and yet we are a country at war? How can I live in paradise and really understand what it must be like to serve in Iraq? I can't. The sad foolishness of it all.

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