The Tarmac

(Warning - this post is raw, emotional, and incredibly personal. It's not nearly as hopeful as the others.)

It's been three months since we brought you home. I've been wanting to write about that experience while the details were still fresh, but at the same time I am having such a hard time reliving that day because the details are still so fresh. 

This was our last road trip and our final drive. This would soon become the most agonizing goodbye. 

We were under this rouse that we were undergoing some type of celebration - the limo, beer, snacks, music, - the type of celebration you'd be all over... But as we crossed into Houston, it hit me like a ton of bricks: we were meeting you on the Tarmac. 

We met in the satellite parking lot just outside of the airport because we needed to take in as few cars as possible. As we pulled into the parking lot, I saw the thing that made this very real: the hearse. I lost it and wanted to wake up from this nightmare. I hugged Erica and Michael as tightly as I could and tried to not let Mat and Regan see me breakdown. The hearse was too real and it was the last place I ever wanted to see you. 

Suddenly it all became very real. We were taken on to the Tarmac by airport security, the sheriff's department, and the USMC. We sat there waiting and waiting and waiting. This was nothing like I had ever experienced before. As the caravan made its way to the gate where your plane would land, we all grew quiet and the only thing our car could do (aside from Mat proclaiming that the only time he had ever been on the Tarmac before was in Grand Theft Auto) was pray. I asked our cousins, your siblings, and our friends if we wanted to pray and we did. We thanked God for the 21 years of life we had with you. We thanked God for your commitment to our country and our military. We thanked God for every second that you were on this Earth and for every laugh, tear, conversation, and hug we had shared with you. We thanked God for holding you close to Him and for giving us the chance to bring you home. And then we sat in silence. 

We stood on that Tarmac waiting - unsure of when the exact moment your plane would land and then finally, through the welcoming nozzles & ladders of two fire trucks, you were there. First I saw the nose of your plane and my heart sank. I knew this was it. Your plane got bigger and bigger until finally you were right in front of us. It felt like forever between the time the plane landed and when the hatch finally opened. We all stood there, tears streaming, hearts pounding, and souls aching. Your brothers lined up to carry you off the plane and we stood there ready to take you home. The American flag was draped over your casket and your brothers carried you with more respect, love, and reverence than I have ever seen. 

And me? I wanted to run and hug your casket. I wanted to wrap my arms so tightly around you and never let you go just like I did when you were 3 days old and I was 4 years old. I wanted to hug you so tight that you couldn't breathe and never let go of my baby cousin. But I couldn't. And I sat there and bawled over the broken body of my precious friend and family member. It was so surreal. You were finally so close to me but so far away and I wanted to hug you but I couldn't get to you. 

We all got back in our cars and began the long drive home. It was so wonderful to know you were finally [physically] with us and to know that we were bringing you home. As we crossed the state line we were met with Veterans on their bikes and more police escorts. We knew that people had gathered outside of Barbe to welcome you home but had no idea about the extent of it. As we drove in front of our high school, hundreds of people were there to welcome you home - your final party. Yes, even the Community Coffee truck came out to see you. 

Philip, nothing has ever hurt like knowing that I will never hug you again or talk to you again. It's taken me three months to finally admit that I wanted to hug your casket and that for some reason, I still can't use the synonym for casket because that just makes it even more "real". But I did. I wanted to hug your casket because I know that's as close as I will ever physically be to you. 

I have been DREADING the month of May. This was supposed to be an exciting time but truth be told, I can't fathom what it will be like to see the calendar say "May 20th" and not celebrate with you. I want you back for selfish reasons - I want you at my ordination and I want to sing Taylor Swift's "22" to you. I miss you more than I can ever say and no matter how many words I have or how much I talk about you, it will never be enough to capture how much I love you and how proud I am to be your cousin. I have one of your shirts which will soon serve as the backing to one of my stoles and every time I wear it, I will know you're with me and be reminded of how incredibly lucky I am to have known you for every single day of your life. 

I'm so thankful I was there to bring you home and I can't wait until the day that you can welcome me to our forever home. I love you my sweet baby cousin and I will never stop talking abut you.