Tuesday, January 09, 2007


I tend to refer to Angie as my sister-in-law, though she is not now, nor ever has been such. I don't know why, but that is the relationship I feel like I have with her. Though we've yet to meet in person, from the first time I talked to her on the phone some 8 years ago, we had a connection. We do have a lot in common. Our children are siblings.

Angie is the woman my husband left me for.

(I'll pause while you collectively gasp... WaitingDone? Ok, on with the story.)

Some of you may wonder how I could be friends, much less consider a sister, such a woman. Well, it was not always so. For a long time I harbored anger towards Angie. I wondered how someone could be so callous as to take another woman's husband away from her--especially with her about to have a child. Did she think she'd won a prize? Did she think he'd be faithful to her, despite the fact that he'd cheated on me? For a long time, that was my one comfort. She'd get hers. If he'll do it with you, he'll do it to you. I knew that someday someone younger and pretter would walk by and he'd forget her just as quickly as he'd forgotten me. And I couldn't wait to gloat about it. My one conundrum was the girls. I wanted Cody to know his sisters, but I just didn't see how I could face their mother.

But then something happened. I was laying in my bed one night diligently nursing my bitterness, when the thought came unbidden to my mind, as if God had put it there:

"Did she even know about me?"

Seriously, as much as Eric had lied to me, had he even told her he was married? Had he told her about the baby? What excuse did he make to her when he flew over to Italy?

I got to thinking about these questions, and realized that she probably didn't even know he was married. After all, it's easy to hide a wife when she's halfway around the world. And I know he hadn't been wearing his wedding ring--not even the faintest of tan lines. The more I thought, the more I realized that she was just as much a victim of his manipluation and lies as I was. That's when my attitude changed. That's when I shifted the blame from her to him. She was not the homewrecker. He was.

Two days later, I got a call from my mother in law (ok, ex, but she's still Mom to me). She told me that Angie wanted to contact me and was it ok if she gave her my phone number. The rest, as they say, is history.

Angie is in the Air Force. (Pause while I patiently endure elbow jabs from Buck.) She has recently been stationed in Germany, and as been sending me e-mails. I asked her if I could share them with you, and she agreed. Since I'm a little behind, I'm going to post two today. Here they are:

January 5, 2007

So here I am in lovely Germany and very excited to be here. It's drizzly, but the air is fresh and crisp. I've had a quick, whirlwind tour of the hospital. I will be the Air Force Liaison for the wounded soldiers. It will be my job to drive over and pick them up from the airport at Ramstein AB and bring them to the hospital. Landstuhl is an Army Post and I will work at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center. I will be on call 24 hours a day and will be very busy. I am really looking forward to this. MSgt Hall said it will be very difficult at times. I may have to be the one to comfort a soldier who has just lost his legs and his girlfriend back home has broken up with him. I may have to make the call back to the parents to tell them how their son or daughter is doing and that I will be taking care of their needs. MSgt Hall and CMSgt Robinson said that if I go back to my room and cry that I will not be the only one. We have to do our job and then let it out sometime because it will be stressful. I am looking forward to working hard. At least I will feel like I am finally doing something for my country. I think this is going to be very rewarding. MSgt Hall said I will leave here a different person.

The flight was fine. I got my room. I have to share a bathroom, but hopefully that's the worst of it. I met a girl named Lori here. We just went to dinner together at Subway (yeah) and now we're checking our e-mail. The shoppette is the next stop on the list.

Dayna is the girl I will be taking over from. She's from California and she's going back there in two weeks. I will have to find out the information, but her husband somehow calls her from California for a penny a minute. That's a great way to keep in touch with the kids. If you have access to DSN, the number is 491-4600 and my room number 24107. I am 6 hours ahead of you. I will be given a cell phone, but don't know the particulars on that yet.

I have to go to work on Monday. We apparently all get together Monday mornings at 0600 to go running. I don't have to do it this Monday because I haven't inprocessed yet, but I'm going to anyway. Gotta start sometime.

Well, gotta go get a shower and relax and sleep. Haven't found a beer yet, but I'm sure there's one close by.


January 6, 2007


Good to hear from you. I don't mind at all if you share on your blog. I love to read it. I'm in the Cyber Cafe right now. It's open 24/7 for people to check their e-mail, but I can't connect my camera. Not that I've taken any pictures yet. Maybe when I get my office I'll be able to share pictures too.

I haven't inprocessed yet, but I'm going to help out tomorrow. Once Dayna leaves in two weeks, I'm it. There's so much to learn. I have to learn how to drive to different places and how to get clothes and uniforms for soldiers and airmen who have been taken straight from the battlefield and don't have anything. I'll have to call families back in the states. Dayna says there's going to be a lot of tears, but you wipe them dry and get back to work. She's says she's become immune to it, but still gets to her
sometimes. Anyway, there's a C-17 coming in tomorrow with a lot of Air Force people on it, so that will be a good experience for me.

I'll write more when I know more.


1 comment:

Buck Pennington said...

It looks like Angie has a tough job. I don't envy her, yet I do...if that makes sense.

And good on ya, Becky, for making peace with yourself and with Angie.


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