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It's been a long time since a death has touched this closely to my family. And I praise God for that. My family has been abundantly blessed with long, healthy lives (I still have all of my grandparents). It's something I know I take for granted every day.

The last time the mystery of death shadowed my world was several years ago. My sister's and mine childhood friend and neighbor was killed in a car accident. It was surreal and devastating to me. She was 15.

Today I was asked to make a printout of a handsome young soldier who had died in Iraq on Nov. 8. His unique last name made me hold my breath because I knew that last name: Heffelfinger. We had the pleasure of being neighbors to a 50-something couple with the same last name a few years ago. Craig & Barb.

I became rather close to Barb, visiting her frequently, talking about gardening and flowers, and homemade cards and jewelry. We could sit for literally hours and chat.

Barb became sick with multiple illnesses and to make a long story short, had to be on an at-home IV for several weeks. She asked if I would be willing to learn how to change her IVs and bandages so the nurses wouldn't have to come anymore. Of course, I said yes.

It was an interesting experience for me and it brought us closer together. She talked often of her children. One of them, an Apache helicopter gunner, if my memory serves me. As most military mom's (I imagine), she was incredibly proud and worried sick at the same time. He was good at what he did.

But I couldn't remember his first name. The name of the soldier in the picture I had was Mathew Heffelfinger. "Mathew" with only one "t". I found a picture of him smiling and gasped, "He looks just like Barb." I continued researching the events of his death and the word "helicopter" flew out of one of the articles and about slapped me across the face. I had been clinging to the hope that he may just be another un-related Heffelfinger until I read that.

I couldn't take it anymore. I had to know for sure. It was like I was teetering on a tight-rope and didn't dare breathe for fear the slightest change would make me fall. I called the man who had sent me the picture and asked if he knew Mathew's parents' names. He said, "Craig." I finished with "And Barb."

Mathew Heffelfinger

It was real. And it's awful. The service is tomorrow and I honestly don't know if I can bear to go. I suffer horribly when those around me suffer. I become painfully empathetic, putting myself in the family's position and my heart literally aches. It is truly an excruciating experience for me. I hope that doesn't sound like the beginning of a bad excuse. It just effects my life so profoundly and very few can understand why. My brain clicks to "sorrow" mode and immediately begins making me acutely aware of the things the family will no longer be able to share with their loved one. And the things the loved one will never be able to do.

Then everything Eric says and does makes me want to cry because I never want to take him for granted.

*whew*

It's rough on me. I needed somewhere to spill all of this, so here it is. I honestly feel better. That surprises me. I'm thankful for that. And thankful for every day the Lord gives me with the people I love. I don't care how bad it gets, people, you will always have something to be thankful for.