Dear Little Bro:
When you called Tuesday night, I wasn't prepared for the news you were going to give me. When you were told you were going to be serving a tour in Iraq, you asked that our phone chats revolve around happy things stateside and the amusing and endearing actions of your brothers in arms. You asked that we speak as if nothing was different, to give you a taste of simplicity. To remind you of what's important. I thought we'd start chatting about the fun things we all were going to do when you came back from Iraq. I thought that we'd start talking about fun places to eat, who could kick who's hiney at pinball, and chatting about larper gamer drama. I thought I'd tell you that I finished my Calculus final and that if your wife needed help with her classes to give me a call. I thought that we could just talk like you asked that we do, like nothing was wrong, nothing was different, and everything was ok.
I thought wrong.
The last thing I expected to hear was a voice choked with anger and tears. I didn't expect to hear that 3 of your closest brothers were killed by and IED. I didn't expect to hear you call yourself a coward, a failure, and a bad marine. I didn't expect to feel a part of your soul die due to a mismanaged, irresponsible and down right WRONG war. I felt it, baby bro. I felt it... and I cried.
Whether you were on that outing probably would not have made a difference. You were ordered not to go. You followed your orders. They were legal orders. You are not a coward. I promise you, you're not a coward. You did not fail your duties. I can't make you believe it, but I can tell you what I feel, and what I know about you.
I understand the want for vengeance, the want for retribution, The desire to attempt to balance the scales. And I pray that what I spoke to you helped. Their deaths warant justice, not vengance. What would it be to their memory if your want to "get back at those that killed my brothers" would get you killed? I think they'd want you to live, so that you can stand beside and watch the backs of the brothers and sisters that they left behind. You need to live to remember them, to honour them.
I feel I failed you Little Brother. I feel that I didn't do enough. All I did was speak some stupid words. All I could do was cry and whisper. And I couldn't promise you that it'd be ok. I just couldn't bring myself to say it. I don't have words to soothe your soul, to bring comfort. I don't have the clout or power to bring you all home. And I couldn't even keep my promise to you. I couldn't remember anything happy or upbeat. I couldn't remember anything except the anger and sadness in your voice.
I don't know what to do now, Little Brother. And I know that "I'm scared that I'll never see you again" is selfish in the light of how many we've lost. I feel that I share the blame for their deaths. That I didn't do enough to bring them home. I feel that I'm the coward. I should be branded as such. And I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry.
Well I'm starting to ramble Little Brother, Sorry about that.
I can only promise you that I'll always be here if you need me. I will be waiting for you and will listen. And whatever happens, I'll still love you. You will always be my Little Brother. Nothing will ever change that. I promise
Missing you a lot,
"little" Big Sis