"His Dad's in Iraq"

I heard those words at the conclusion of my sons baseball game yesterday. They were down two runs with no outs. They rallied and tied the score. They had two out with a runner on first. My son came up to bat. The pitch came across the plate, it hit the catchers mit and fell to the ground. The runner took off for second. The catchers throw went wide and the runner popped up from his slide and headed for third. The outfielders met at the ball and with the split second of hesitation, the third base coach signaled for the runner to head for home. We were yelling and jumping around as the runner scooted down the third base line in front of us. The throw came in, the catcher was guarding the plate, the runner slid. He was safe. We roared in unison, the kids ran out of the dug out, the coach picked up the runner and his teammates swarmed around him. The smile on Miles' face was just priceless. "Way to hustle Miles!!" "Great game Miles!!" Someone in the crowd asked, "Where is this kids Dad?" The coaches wife responded, "His Dad's in Iraq." She did not say it very loud but the words fell right on top of me. I thought of my sons and of the games that they played in, the goals and runs that they scored while I was away and how many times they looked over to see my reaction only to realize that I was in Iraq, missing out on moments such as this. I looked around for Miles and he was making his way to the parking lot. I wanted to tell him, "Your Dad is proud of you." but I felt that it was not my place.

How many times has this story been lived out in other towns across our nation? And how many more kids will look into the stands and go from being on cloud nine to feeling so alone?