One week ago today a friend of mine was told that her son was killed in Afghanistan. He had signed on for his third tour of duty with the marines and shipped out in August. She begged him not to go this time, but he wanted to go one more time. She is the kind of person who ached to have grandchildren and wanted him to settle down and have children, not go back to the middle east. He was her only child.
To complicate things, she was divorced from her son's father and the father is making all the decisions about the funeral and their son's belongings. He is going to be cremated, but the father is going to take the urn supplied by the marine corp. She will get half of his remains in a cardboard box. She wants the flag that covered his coffin on the flight home from Afghanistan, but the father is going to get it. It seems to get worse with each new bit of news.
I just pray that God will be evident to her, tenderly walk before her and enfold her these next days to cushion the harsh reality that she is facing.