by Donald Finley

Created on: January 20, 2011

Although happily married for over 25 years, I had never forgotten my first true love.  We were in our teens, clueless about life, but were the light in each other’s lives.  We had been dedicated to each other while living 400 miles apart for nearly two years and seeing each other about every six weeks for usually a few days at most.  We made plans, we built our futures, we shared our secrets, our dreams, and our hopes and fears.  We picked the college we would attend, we set the date of our marriage.  They were two of the most alive years of my life.

Distance, families, miscommunication and confusion eventually took their tolls, and we separated.  We never fell out of love; we were overcome by it.  Our parting wasn’t pleasant; it was laced with hurt and emotion because we still loved each other.  In my teenaged brilliance, magnified by my vast 2 years of relationship experience, I had become convinced it couldn’t work.  I took the step that changed both of our lives.

Over the years, I tried unsuccessfully to find her, not to rekindle a long-lost love, but to hopefully discover her happy and prosperous.  I needed to know she was okay.  I also wanted her forgiveness for hurting her.  But she and her family had completely cut off all communication with me after I ended our relationship.  I had no idea if she was even still alive.  For over 30 years, memories of her would pop into my mind, first make me smile, then sadden me because I knew nothing of her fate.

Approaching 50 years old, married longer than anyone else I personally know, with three wonderful children and one grandchild, I deployed to Iraq.  After well over 20 years in the Air Force, having achieved the rank of Colonel, I had mixed emotions.  I would certainly miss my family, but the opportunity to serve in a combat zone, where I knew I could make a valuable contribution, was enticing.  Nearing retirement, I also knew it would likely be my last deployment.

My wife and I coordinated our video chat programs, email and mailing addresses, and practiced chatting real-time via Facebook.  We pledged to communicate as much as possible, by as many means as were available.  But when I arrived, internet access was abysmally slow, and insufficient to support video chat.  Facebook could take an hour just to have the site load, so we were stuck with infrequent phone calls, and much email.

One evening

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