While we were in AF, Kenny and I became very close friends with a gentlemen named Jeff. He was from the south so him and Kenny instantly hit it off. He shared our tiny office with us – making us coffee every morning – and we’d frequently play poker with him. Him and Kenny would always give me a hard time about everything.
I guess you could say he was Kenny and I’s Afghanistan Dad. He had recently become engaged to his high-school sweetheart from 20 yrs ago and was planing a huge vacation for his and her entire family upon his return. He was scheduled to return to the states two days from now. His year was almost up.
I came into work this morning, checked my email, and received an email telling me that Jeff had died last night from a heart attack. It took me a few moments to register what was real. Did he really die? How could that happen? How is that fair? He was early 40′s. I saw him less then a week ago and he was fine. More then fine, ecstatic to be so close to the end of his tour.
Kenny and I went to the Chapel here on base and prayed. I suddenly felt like a little kid during all this, who didn’t know what to do. I kept wishing my Great-Grandmother was here to help me pray. When I lived with her, we prayed every night and it felt right. Its another dose of reality, that I didn’t want to face.