Eleven months since.

In the spirit of my blog theme: superheros, I'd like to post a recent article titled "Normal Humans Wouldn't Do That" posted on the blog Stars and Stripes about the day my brother Jason Bogar died (see link below.)

I'm not sure how accurate this article is. The boys that were with Jason on that day that I've talked with are reticent to share their stories. I guess they feel like by speaking about it, it cheapens it. I can understand that. Anyway, from the boys who didn't feel that way, this story is slowly coming out. Just as understanding as I feel for the silence of some of the guys, I'm equally thankful for the guys that have made the choice to talk.

Overall the article seems more or less up to par with what I know. I do have issue with this particular piece of information taken from the article,

"There was intelligence an attack would occur," according to an Army "15-6" report regarding the battle, "but this was to be expected for the Waygal District." Troops expected a "probing attack" of around 20 militants."

That is not at all accurate with what I heard from Jason's fellow soldiers. To my understanding, no one had any idea anything was coming and they were on a "recon" mission. From what I know, they weren't expecting 20 --let alone 200.

I feel like its disrespectful to say that they knew it was coming. If they did, don't you think they would have been more prepared? I do.

I miss Jason constantly. Fortunately, being just one month under a year since his death, the realization that he is gone has settled in. Over the past year every time I re-remembered that he died felt like a grenade going off under my feet only to look down and see it was a rock. The dull sinking feeling of: no, I wasn't dead. He was. I'm still here.

So, that doesn't happen as often anymore. It used to be that I would hear a song, eat something or have a thought and think to myself: this is the first time I've experienced this since Jason died. Those instances lessen with time, but they still occur.

Now his absence --it's just a normal part of the day. I wake up and just KNOW he's gone. I dream of him and know he's gone. Sometimes he's in my dream but visiting me as a spirit. Other times I have a dream I'm in real life with Carise, Mom, Dad, Dan but Jason isn't in that dream. I just KNOW he's gone.

Does it make it any less painful? You tell me.

Anyways, here's the story of the day he died told through a few soldier journalists piecing together what they can to find the truth: Normal Humans Wouldn't Do That