They thank him for his service. They say he will be okay. How? How do they know? They don’t know what he does let alone what he goes through. They don’t know about the constant fear he has not knowing if the enemy is lurking around the corner. Or the pain he feels because he left his family back home. They have no knowledge of the constant stress of not knowing if he will get to kiss his wife again, or tuck his little girls into bed.

  How could they possibly know if it will be okay? They say stuff like you’ll make it, you’ll be fine. In what sense will he be okay if he is dying inside because he didn't get to say goodnight to his angels? Will he be okay if he dies without saying I love you to his daughters on their birthday? Will he be fine if he is killed and didn't get to kiss his wife on their anniversary? The truth is they don’t know. They don’t know what he goes through.
  Happy Birthday, he says, I’m sorry but I have to work, I love you sweetheart. Gone, just gone. Another birthday, another year. The pain and the guilt of missing his oldest daughters 16th birthday is unbearable. He doesn't know which is worse, that he missed her birthday or the fact that she thinks it’s okay. But he takes it, he has to take it. He manages to drown out his pain with the talking of the soldiers around him who are scurrying around him trying to get things done before they go back to their tents.
  It’s late now, it’s dark and cold, and the birds no longer sing their songs for the owls took over. And the cold breeze gently licks the back of his neck as he walks back to his tent, he’s done for today. He takes of his combat boots, his jacket, and then lays on his cot. As he pulls the thin blanket over his body he remembers the sweet smell of his wife’s perfume, the softness of the bed sheets, on his legs’ and arms, and the soft, fluffy pillow under his head. He remembers waking up late at night just to go watch his 1 year old princesses’ chest rise and fall as the air goes in and comes out of her little nose. A tear falls from his eye and he can feel it roll down his cheek where his little 5 year old gave him possibly the last kiss he could possibly receive.
  It’s a bright, sunny day, he smiles as he walks into a big building. They don’t know what he did, or what he went through. All they know is he did a good job. And now he doesn't imagine his little girls and his beautiful wife. He runs to them. Back from deployment, he finally sees his family, his world, his motivation to get up in the morning. The only probably now is he can’t tell him how much pain he went through because they went through the same pain. The thing he doesn't know is that they didn't go through the same pain. They went through pain, yes, but their pain wasn't as painful as his. They had each other, but he had no one. And now his family is whole once again.

  That is a life of a United States Army soldier.