Twenty-four years ago, on June 25, 1996, my brother was in this Khobar Tower building when it was bombed. In fact, he was outside on the balcony, smoking a cigarette, just moments before the bomb went off. He walked inside his room and seconds later, the balcony that he had just been standing on was gone.
My brother was in the U.S. Air Force, there on a peace keeping mission. In the aftermath of the bombing, he helped pull the bodies of his fellow Airmen out of the rubble, young men that he had just finished training.
Every year at this time, my brother is haunted by the memories of what happened on this day. A couple of days ago, he changed his Facebook profile picture to this picture of the blown out building.
Please say a prayer for my brother. He is a newlywed, married less than a month ago to a lovely woman. With the exception of public persons, I don’t use real names on my blog. So when you pray for my brother, use the initials ‘J.R.’ — God knows who he is.
Thank you. ❤❤❤
UPDATED WITH A MESSAGE FROM MY BROTHER
My brother sent me a text this morning, a few minutes after I posted this. He said:
“Honestly though, people shouldn’t be concerned about me on this date. I just pay tribute to those people we lost, especially the 12 that were part of my fighter squadron, the 58th Fighter Squadron, 33rd fighter wing from Eglin AFB, FL. I knew most of them very well and trained several of the younger men. Got them ready to deploy because they were right out of tech school. Signed the paperwork saying they were ready. That really sucks, but I came to terms with it years ago. Thanks for thinking of me though.”
That’s my brother. A hero in my eyes. ❤❤❤