Hind sight is betraying me. I'm trying to remember what it was like in those weeks when we made the choice for Kirk to go to Iraq. I'm trying to put myself back in that mindset, but I can't do it. I know too much - it has been too hard. I can't dissociate enough to present this honestly. I can't give you what I want to give you - a real feeling for why we chose what we did.

Kirk wasn't happy. There is that - although it sounds so small and meaningless now. He had gained some weight, and for him that was a sign of something more. He was sleeping badly, his chronic stomach trouble had started up again, he was distracted and uneasy. It started with 9/11, but it was getting worse. Because of who he was it was unspoken, unexpressed. He played with the kids, coached the soccer team, went on nightly runs with me, and walked out to the ocean every night to talk and watch the surf. But the man who had always looked 10 years younger than he really was suddenly looked old, tired, beaten. So this was more than simple unhappiness, more fundamental, more important.

And then C went to Turkey. Kirk had been thinking of going to Kosovo, talking of making a major change, and then C got this incredible chance. And Kirk was envious. He was happy that C would be able to do this, but oh... he wanted to go as well. And I knew that.

I try and remember as well that this was the early days after the initial war. No contractors had yet been hurt or killed. Things had gone well, things seemed to be stable.

Keep all of that in mind when you read the rest of this story. It's important. It's important to remember the time, and important to remember who Kirk was.

That's what I'm trying to do.