I've never been one to ask for much. When asked for a list at Christmas time, I struggle to come up with very few things that I want, and even fewer that I truly need. As my children grew, they would ask what I wanted for Christmas, my standard answer of "I only want your love" would be met with rolled eyes and a "that doesn't help, Mom!" I didn't want them to spend what little money they had on me.
That isn't to say that I don't enjoy a gift, but I sometimes feel I don't deserve or need one. My wish for love was honest, and easy to give. A hug, an "I love you", giving of their time, or even doing the dishes without my asking would go a long way with me, and for the most part they delivered.
Now, with Emily so far away and Curtis gone, I ache for the love of my children. Sometimes it hurts so bad I can literally feel my heart rip in two. I talk with Emily frequently, but it's not the same as a touch or a hug. As Christmas approaches, this feeling increases. I hear the songs of the season and want to scream, "It's NOT the most wonderful time of the year!" I know I'm not alone when I say that.
Now that I got that out of my system, I want to say that I do feel the love in different ways now. I know that it is Curtis who has brought so many wonderful people into my life. Maybe it's that this time of year, when I don't get to spend much time with them, that I feel so depleted.
Dave and I will travel to see Emily, Nic and Katie for the Holiday. They better be ready, because I'm ready to accept my gift in a big way.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Friday, December 9, 2011
Quick Wit
One of the things I miss most about Curtis is his quick wit. Sometimes he would say something so fast and funny, one look at his face, and I would know that he didn't even know where it came from.
A few weeks ago while at Cabelas at the costumer service counter, the cashier next to me was telling her costumer that she had just purchased a leather sewing machine. As I was thinking she had bought it for sewing patches on leather vests and jackets, something came out of my mouth as quick and unexpectedly to me as my neighbors.
"Did you get it to make your dominatrix outfits?" My sister in law and the guy next to me burst out laughing, a man in an office behind the counter even poked his head out to see who had made such a comment. I had to admit I cracked myself up. How could that have come out of my mouth? It wasn't even something that I was thinking. It was just the sort of thing Curtis would have said.
Is that how he chooses to make his presence known? Just a friendly reminder to laugh at life when you aren't feeling that jovial? Thank you Curtis for letting my know you are near and to have a little fun with life.
A few weeks ago while at Cabelas at the costumer service counter, the cashier next to me was telling her costumer that she had just purchased a leather sewing machine. As I was thinking she had bought it for sewing patches on leather vests and jackets, something came out of my mouth as quick and unexpectedly to me as my neighbors.
"Did you get it to make your dominatrix outfits?" My sister in law and the guy next to me burst out laughing, a man in an office behind the counter even poked his head out to see who had made such a comment. I had to admit I cracked myself up. How could that have come out of my mouth? It wasn't even something that I was thinking. It was just the sort of thing Curtis would have said.
Is that how he chooses to make his presence known? Just a friendly reminder to laugh at life when you aren't feeling that jovial? Thank you Curtis for letting my know you are near and to have a little fun with life.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Goose Hunters
Over the weekend I again got to meet some hero's. There was a goose hunt for twelve wounded warriors, all one hundred percent disabled, from around the United States. They had a meet and greet at the VFW on Friday night, and we decided to go. I'm so glad we did.
I feel like a broken record when I say I'm inspired when I'm around these great men and women, but it may be the only way I can describe it, they are incredible. I met Mike first, he was burned over 40% of his body, much on his hands, arms and head, he now works as a peer mentor. He is making a bad situation into something good, much like Dave and I are trying to do. He had such a zest for life, both Dave and I were drawn to him.
Zach was a little more difficult to crack, I had to peak under the bill of his hat to see his eyes. He looked to be 16, and looked uncomfortable being there. With his jacket on, I didn't see any apparent injuries, but he is still in DC getting ready for yet another surgery. He was in his vehicle when a rocket came through the door, passed through his arm and continued out the drivers side door, then exploded. He was quick to show me his arm when I asked, I think he sensed I wouldn't judge or get upset.
Later, during a short presentation and welcome, we were introduced as a Gold Star Family. It felt a little awkward to receive such recognition in such a group of hero's, it was their day. It has finally dawned on me that Dave and I represent the face of the parent of their buddies who didn't come back. They may not have been able to meet those parents, but can shake our hands and tell us how sorry they are. Many have survivors guilt, and having us there greeting them, showing our gratitude hopefully makes them feel we are not placing blame anywhere, we are not wondering why Curtis and not them?
We may have come on a different path to this point, and may walk a different one when we part, but the roads we are on intersect at many places. We can understand war in a way that many others cannot. That is what makes our differing stories so similar.
I feel like a broken record when I say I'm inspired when I'm around these great men and women, but it may be the only way I can describe it, they are incredible. I met Mike first, he was burned over 40% of his body, much on his hands, arms and head, he now works as a peer mentor. He is making a bad situation into something good, much like Dave and I are trying to do. He had such a zest for life, both Dave and I were drawn to him.
Zach was a little more difficult to crack, I had to peak under the bill of his hat to see his eyes. He looked to be 16, and looked uncomfortable being there. With his jacket on, I didn't see any apparent injuries, but he is still in DC getting ready for yet another surgery. He was in his vehicle when a rocket came through the door, passed through his arm and continued out the drivers side door, then exploded. He was quick to show me his arm when I asked, I think he sensed I wouldn't judge or get upset.
Later, during a short presentation and welcome, we were introduced as a Gold Star Family. It felt a little awkward to receive such recognition in such a group of hero's, it was their day. It has finally dawned on me that Dave and I represent the face of the parent of their buddies who didn't come back. They may not have been able to meet those parents, but can shake our hands and tell us how sorry they are. Many have survivors guilt, and having us there greeting them, showing our gratitude hopefully makes them feel we are not placing blame anywhere, we are not wondering why Curtis and not them?
We may have come on a different path to this point, and may walk a different one when we part, but the roads we are on intersect at many places. We can understand war in a way that many others cannot. That is what makes our differing stories so similar.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Veterans Day
When I think of the memories of Curtis, I find many ironies in them. Veterans Day is no exception, it is the last full day I spent with Curtis. He and Katie flew home on Halloween and we said our goodbyes the morning after Veterans Day.
We spent the day going from place to place eating the free food offerings and accepting hand shakes and thanks for his service. Like so many of our service members, it was met humbly, as if he didn't think he was worthy of the praise he was receiving. It didn't matter, I was proud enough for us both.
Because of this special day and week, we also had the opportunity to don our Sunday best and attend the Marine Corps Ball while he was home. How special it was to watch as all the cousins danced and sang together for the first time since they were children. It was a night and week filled with great memories that will, and have to, last a lifetime.
Today will be full for Dave and I as well. Breakfast with real American Heros, our Veterans, and this afternoon a wall will be dedicated at Mayo High School to honor not only Curtis, but Travis Bruce, another Mayo graduate who was killed in action in 2005.
Thank you to all the men and woman who have served, whether peacetime or times of conflict, you stepped up and promised to do what was asked, I thank you for all my freedoms.
We spent the day going from place to place eating the free food offerings and accepting hand shakes and thanks for his service. Like so many of our service members, it was met humbly, as if he didn't think he was worthy of the praise he was receiving. It didn't matter, I was proud enough for us both.
Because of this special day and week, we also had the opportunity to don our Sunday best and attend the Marine Corps Ball while he was home. How special it was to watch as all the cousins danced and sang together for the first time since they were children. It was a night and week filled with great memories that will, and have to, last a lifetime.
Today will be full for Dave and I as well. Breakfast with real American Heros, our Veterans, and this afternoon a wall will be dedicated at Mayo High School to honor not only Curtis, but Travis Bruce, another Mayo graduate who was killed in action in 2005.
Thank you to all the men and woman who have served, whether peacetime or times of conflict, you stepped up and promised to do what was asked, I thank you for all my freedoms.
Friday, November 4, 2011
The Year Everything Changed
I'm reading the book "The Year Everything Changed" by Georgia Bockoven. The title may indicate it could relate to me, but it has a totally different story line. It is just a bit of easy reading that takes my mind away from my own troubles. I'm not very far into the book, but I ran across a line that struck me. "She wasn't ready for the life she'd known to be over, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it."
Wow. How true this statement rings. Even before my life imploded, I was feeling a sense of that statement as true. Curtis had been out of the house for three years, and Emily was making her own way as well. After I raised children and they flew from the nest I needed time to adjust and find my own way too. What was I going to make of myself now that I wasn't needed anymore? I guess I was just starting to get over my pity party and figure it out when the bad news arrived, how small the former problem became.
In so many ways new opportunities have opened up to me, and in so many ways I struggle with some of what is left of my former life. My work is a source of trouble for me. I wonder sometimes if it is what I want to do anymore, something that had never crossed my mind before. I question if I was a good enough parent. I think I offered enough love and support, but it will always be something I will wonder. And, among so many things, I miss the sense of security. It was challenged during deployments, but certainly not to this extent, anxiety is a constant companion now.
Change is just a part of life, but I wasn't ready for this, how could anyone be? It's just that some days I'd like to go back and have a few more days of what I remember as normal. There's not a damn thing I can do about it.
Wow. How true this statement rings. Even before my life imploded, I was feeling a sense of that statement as true. Curtis had been out of the house for three years, and Emily was making her own way as well. After I raised children and they flew from the nest I needed time to adjust and find my own way too. What was I going to make of myself now that I wasn't needed anymore? I guess I was just starting to get over my pity party and figure it out when the bad news arrived, how small the former problem became.
In so many ways new opportunities have opened up to me, and in so many ways I struggle with some of what is left of my former life. My work is a source of trouble for me. I wonder sometimes if it is what I want to do anymore, something that had never crossed my mind before. I question if I was a good enough parent. I think I offered enough love and support, but it will always be something I will wonder. And, among so many things, I miss the sense of security. It was challenged during deployments, but certainly not to this extent, anxiety is a constant companion now.
Change is just a part of life, but I wasn't ready for this, how could anyone be? It's just that some days I'd like to go back and have a few more days of what I remember as normal. There's not a damn thing I can do about it.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Avoidance
My house is spotless. I have been going through things like a white tornado, cleaning and purging. This is something I have not been up to for eighteen months. I have been through every inch on my house except one small closet, Curtis'.
When I started this quest, I was thinking, "Finally, I have some energy to do something normal!" As this energy burst continued, I understood what it truly was, an avoidance tactic. It started with the need to find a reasonable spot to display all the memorabilia and gifts that have been given to us since Curtis' death. The generosity is staggering. I had put much of it in his room, thinking I would get to it at a later date. As time went on, I found that some visiting friends and family had a difficult time staying in his room. I can understand how they felt, not everyone finds comfort sleeping in a room that has the life size eyes of the dead watching over them. I felt the need to "De-Curtis" his room a bit. That may sound cold or unemotional, but it is the best way to describe what I needed to do, my home is too small to have unusable space.
I have placed many of the things in the hallway leading to his room. Emily noted that I have never had anything on these walls before. This is because I had two children in the house that would have compromised any valuables placed there, it seems to be a pure area for his things now.
I am running out of steam and the closet is still sitting untouched. I sometimes sit at the bottom of the steps looking at the beautiful things on the wall, thinking of what awaits me at the top. Maybe this is not the time to go through his childhood things, I may not be truly ready for some time. For now I will take comfort in his new space and my clean house.
When I started this quest, I was thinking, "Finally, I have some energy to do something normal!" As this energy burst continued, I understood what it truly was, an avoidance tactic. It started with the need to find a reasonable spot to display all the memorabilia and gifts that have been given to us since Curtis' death. The generosity is staggering. I had put much of it in his room, thinking I would get to it at a later date. As time went on, I found that some visiting friends and family had a difficult time staying in his room. I can understand how they felt, not everyone finds comfort sleeping in a room that has the life size eyes of the dead watching over them. I felt the need to "De-Curtis" his room a bit. That may sound cold or unemotional, but it is the best way to describe what I needed to do, my home is too small to have unusable space.
I have placed many of the things in the hallway leading to his room. Emily noted that I have never had anything on these walls before. This is because I had two children in the house that would have compromised any valuables placed there, it seems to be a pure area for his things now.
I am running out of steam and the closet is still sitting untouched. I sometimes sit at the bottom of the steps looking at the beautiful things on the wall, thinking of what awaits me at the top. Maybe this is not the time to go through his childhood things, I may not be truly ready for some time. For now I will take comfort in his new space and my clean house.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Blue and Gold
Some time back I was asked to write a piece for a local magazine that comes out for Veterans Day. I have been struggling with how to approach this. It may have been the way it was presented to me. The gentleman who asked, told me I should write about what you go through as a Blue Star Mom. I thought he only mixed up the Blue and Gold, but he went on to say that I should talk about the struggles and feelings a Mom goes through when a child is deployed. I looked at him blankly, I didn't even know how to answer, I only said that I would try to put something together.
I remember those feelings, it's just that it feels like a life time ago that I was counting down the days until I could take a full breath, knowing that my son was out of danger. I now am with a group of people that know the pain of never having that final count down, never taking a fully relieving breath. I think he was trying to convey to me that I should write about my experience as a Gold Star Mother, but how do I sum up my feelings in a short essay?
When Curtis first deployed I felt I didn't need the support of the local Blue Star Mother's group. I had my own support group, my sister in laws had both been through deployments with their sons. I had them to talk to and go to for support. Today I find the local group invaluable. They stand by quietly, always remembering special dates, stopping by with flowers and cards of encouragement. They have asked me to join them at their meetings, but I am not ready for that. I have moved on from the Blue Star status. I know they do not want to be where I am, nor do I want them to join me. They are a wonderful group that know the difficulties of a deployed child, and to some degree understand what I am going through , because I am living their greatest fear.
I'm not sure if I'll ever get the essay completed, and I may already be too late to submit it. I have learned that some things cannot be rushed, or there are things that are just not meant to be. It may have to wait until next year, but for now I will take comfort in knowing there is this special group of ladies who will always care, they don't need an essay to understand.
I remember those feelings, it's just that it feels like a life time ago that I was counting down the days until I could take a full breath, knowing that my son was out of danger. I now am with a group of people that know the pain of never having that final count down, never taking a fully relieving breath. I think he was trying to convey to me that I should write about my experience as a Gold Star Mother, but how do I sum up my feelings in a short essay?
When Curtis first deployed I felt I didn't need the support of the local Blue Star Mother's group. I had my own support group, my sister in laws had both been through deployments with their sons. I had them to talk to and go to for support. Today I find the local group invaluable. They stand by quietly, always remembering special dates, stopping by with flowers and cards of encouragement. They have asked me to join them at their meetings, but I am not ready for that. I have moved on from the Blue Star status. I know they do not want to be where I am, nor do I want them to join me. They are a wonderful group that know the difficulties of a deployed child, and to some degree understand what I am going through , because I am living their greatest fear.
I'm not sure if I'll ever get the essay completed, and I may already be too late to submit it. I have learned that some things cannot be rushed, or there are things that are just not meant to be. It may have to wait until next year, but for now I will take comfort in knowing there is this special group of ladies who will always care, they don't need an essay to understand.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Michigan
Who knew you could travel to the lower peninsula of Michigan and travel the world? As we rode, I could see the high mountain valleys with the old barns of the Colorado Rocky Mountains, the marina's reminded me of San Diego, some of the rolling hills and winding roads felt like Missouri, and, if it was only 50 degrees warmer, the panoramic view we got as we approached Lake Huron could have been the Caribbean Sea near Cancun. It amazes me how the mind can take you back in time in a second.
Our mission was to ride much of the northern shore, eat some good local food, and visit winery's. We had ridden the weekend before, visiting families of the fallen with the Tribute to the Troops. Add the 10th anniversary of 9/11, and it was an emotional time and we wanted to get away to regroup.
We stopped at a winery to have a taste, and started a conversation with the woman behind the counter easily because she too was a bike rider. We told her of a couple we knew that had hit a deer on their bike one morning the past weekend. The bike was badly damaged, somehow he was able to keep the bike upright and fortunately neither of them was injured. The woman's response was "Thank God, it's your worst nightmare!" It stopped both Dave and I in our tracks. It took me back in time, the moment I saw the two Marines approaching my house. I didn't know where it took Dave, but I knew he was somewhere else too.
After a few seconds, in unison, we said under our breath, "It's not OUR worst nightmare." We both know it is just a statement made in a conversation, and it was not meant literally, but we have such a different reaction than we would have only 18 months ago. I don't want people to think they have to be overly careful of what they say around me, I just view things so differently. It is my job to try and deal with these everyday statements, not make people feel uncomfortable talking about Curtis, or anything around me. It can be a daily battle. Someone said to me lately, 'It's not that you have to come to terms that Curtis is dead, (I've done that) you have to come to terms that you will have to deal with this the rest of your life.'
Our trip was wonderful, relaxing and refreshing. I am looking forward to the next time we can travel the world.
Our mission was to ride much of the northern shore, eat some good local food, and visit winery's. We had ridden the weekend before, visiting families of the fallen with the Tribute to the Troops. Add the 10th anniversary of 9/11, and it was an emotional time and we wanted to get away to regroup.
We stopped at a winery to have a taste, and started a conversation with the woman behind the counter easily because she too was a bike rider. We told her of a couple we knew that had hit a deer on their bike one morning the past weekend. The bike was badly damaged, somehow he was able to keep the bike upright and fortunately neither of them was injured. The woman's response was "Thank God, it's your worst nightmare!" It stopped both Dave and I in our tracks. It took me back in time, the moment I saw the two Marines approaching my house. I didn't know where it took Dave, but I knew he was somewhere else too.
After a few seconds, in unison, we said under our breath, "It's not OUR worst nightmare." We both know it is just a statement made in a conversation, and it was not meant literally, but we have such a different reaction than we would have only 18 months ago. I don't want people to think they have to be overly careful of what they say around me, I just view things so differently. It is my job to try and deal with these everyday statements, not make people feel uncomfortable talking about Curtis, or anything around me. It can be a daily battle. Someone said to me lately, 'It's not that you have to come to terms that Curtis is dead, (I've done that) you have to come to terms that you will have to deal with this the rest of your life.'
Our trip was wonderful, relaxing and refreshing. I am looking forward to the next time we can travel the world.
Friday, September 9, 2011
I've Met An Angel
A few weeks ago I was going through a particularly low period. One morning late in the week I woke up crying, I cried through yoga, I cried in the shower, I cried on the way to work, I cried between patients... and so went my day. Small talk was beyond me, it's difficult to be interested in someones vacation in that kind of mood.
As I neared the end of the work day I was running out of steam, and was to the point of counting minutes. I went to bring the next patient back, one I had never met. She was a regal elderly woman with short cropped white hair, but her main feature that struck me was her crystal blue eyes, the kind you could see right through, almost like a husky's. I remember thinking she reminded me of an angel. While waiting for the doctor at the end of the appointment, she asked about the marine's picture on the wall. I told her of my son, and she told me of hers. Her son had passed away 8 years ago of prostate cancer, again I cried. We only had a few minutes to chat, but she said so much. It didn't change my mood totally, but it helped.
The following week, I recieved a letter from my angel. I have always thought of my grief as a wave and what she sent describes it the way I couldn't. "Real grief is not easily comforted. It comes like ocean waves rushing up the sand, subsiding back, only to roll in again. These waves vary in size, frequency, and intensity. Some are small, lapping up around the feet. Others are stonger, they foam the water around you and cause you to stagger. Then there are the overwhelming waves with an undertow that can turn your world upside down and drag you out into deep water." She found this in "From Grief to Glory" by James W Bruce III. It described me perfectly at the time, and I did find comfort in it.
I want to thank my angel, you rescued me from going out to sea.
As I neared the end of the work day I was running out of steam, and was to the point of counting minutes. I went to bring the next patient back, one I had never met. She was a regal elderly woman with short cropped white hair, but her main feature that struck me was her crystal blue eyes, the kind you could see right through, almost like a husky's. I remember thinking she reminded me of an angel. While waiting for the doctor at the end of the appointment, she asked about the marine's picture on the wall. I told her of my son, and she told me of hers. Her son had passed away 8 years ago of prostate cancer, again I cried. We only had a few minutes to chat, but she said so much. It didn't change my mood totally, but it helped.
The following week, I recieved a letter from my angel. I have always thought of my grief as a wave and what she sent describes it the way I couldn't. "Real grief is not easily comforted. It comes like ocean waves rushing up the sand, subsiding back, only to roll in again. These waves vary in size, frequency, and intensity. Some are small, lapping up around the feet. Others are stonger, they foam the water around you and cause you to stagger. Then there are the overwhelming waves with an undertow that can turn your world upside down and drag you out into deep water." She found this in "From Grief to Glory" by James W Bruce III. It described me perfectly at the time, and I did find comfort in it.
I want to thank my angel, you rescued me from going out to sea.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Welcome Home
Last weekend Dave and I attended the first Tune it up for the Troops event in Mankato. For a first time event, they had a great turnout. While chatting with a couple other ladies, a woman approached us and joined our conversation. She then told us her father was coming home after 67 years.
She was only 3 months old during WWII when her father's airplane went down with 9 other men. One man managed to jump and survive, the remaining men were listed as MIA the following year. The wreckage had never been recovered in the dense and hostile area, until recently. On September 18th, she will travel to Arlington to lay the men to rest, one casket for all 9 men. The tradition is to lay out the uniform of the highest ranking man, usually the pilot, and circle it with the head wear of the others. The story gave me goosebumps.
The thought of not knowing where your loved one was, or not having them return to you has always haunted me. Knowing the pain of my loss, I cannot imagine what other emotions could come along with that added complication. The strength and faith I see is inspiring.
This woman's mother remarried and she was raised by a wonderful man, but she never forgot a father she never met. The joy and pride of her father's return was written on her face. I wish her well, and I will think of a hero named Christopherson, as well as the others on the 18th. Welcome home.
She was only 3 months old during WWII when her father's airplane went down with 9 other men. One man managed to jump and survive, the remaining men were listed as MIA the following year. The wreckage had never been recovered in the dense and hostile area, until recently. On September 18th, she will travel to Arlington to lay the men to rest, one casket for all 9 men. The tradition is to lay out the uniform of the highest ranking man, usually the pilot, and circle it with the head wear of the others. The story gave me goosebumps.
The thought of not knowing where your loved one was, or not having them return to you has always haunted me. Knowing the pain of my loss, I cannot imagine what other emotions could come along with that added complication. The strength and faith I see is inspiring.
This woman's mother remarried and she was raised by a wonderful man, but she never forgot a father she never met. The joy and pride of her father's return was written on her face. I wish her well, and I will think of a hero named Christopherson, as well as the others on the 18th. Welcome home.
Friday, August 26, 2011
A Shared Date
Twenty two years ago today I married the love of my live. Dave and I had started our romance long distance while he was serving in the Marine Corps in California. You learn alot about a person when you can only talk from that distance. When he got out, I knew he was the guy I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
Two years ago today, Curtis and Katie followed in our footsteps. They too, started their relationship long distant, and decided to tie the knot in Honolulu on our anniversary. I was ecstatic! How blessed we were to share the same date as our son and new daughter in law. I had ideas of spending time with them on our date, whether they wanted that or not, but I could dream. Sadly, they never made it to their first anniversary.
Last year this date was very difficult, I am struggling with it this year as well. It has turned out to be a bittersweet day. I celebrate the love of my life, and mourn the lost love of my daughter in law. The original plan for Curtis and Katie was to wait until after his deployment to marry, but in the excitement, they went to the Justice of the Peace instead, and it landed on August 26th coincidentally. I can't help but think that it was God's plan so that Katie would be remembered each year, she doesn't have to face this difficult day alone.
Like last year, Dave and I are getting on the bike and riding without much plan. I do a lot of thinking on the bike, but with much more freedom and peace than while cooped up at home, as if my thoughts can go out to the universe and escape, instead of banging around on four walls. I know Curtis and Katie will be in many of my thoughts, some happy and some very sad, but hopefully with a joyful heart.
Happy Anniversary Katie, I hope you find happiness today.
Two years ago today, Curtis and Katie followed in our footsteps. They too, started their relationship long distant, and decided to tie the knot in Honolulu on our anniversary. I was ecstatic! How blessed we were to share the same date as our son and new daughter in law. I had ideas of spending time with them on our date, whether they wanted that or not, but I could dream. Sadly, they never made it to their first anniversary.
Last year this date was very difficult, I am struggling with it this year as well. It has turned out to be a bittersweet day. I celebrate the love of my life, and mourn the lost love of my daughter in law. The original plan for Curtis and Katie was to wait until after his deployment to marry, but in the excitement, they went to the Justice of the Peace instead, and it landed on August 26th coincidentally. I can't help but think that it was God's plan so that Katie would be remembered each year, she doesn't have to face this difficult day alone.
Like last year, Dave and I are getting on the bike and riding without much plan. I do a lot of thinking on the bike, but with much more freedom and peace than while cooped up at home, as if my thoughts can go out to the universe and escape, instead of banging around on four walls. I know Curtis and Katie will be in many of my thoughts, some happy and some very sad, but hopefully with a joyful heart.
Happy Anniversary Katie, I hope you find happiness today.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
You Aren't Really Living
A few weeks ago we were told of a service being held at the Soldiers Field Memorial Wall. The Khe Sanh Veterans were having their annual reunion in Rochester this year, and were having a memorial on Friday night. After the service, we were introduced to one of the vets from New York. Neil was an energetic, passionate man. He invited us to be guests at the banquet that rounded out the weeks events, the following evening. Never ones to turn down a free meal, we accepted.
We had a wonderful meal and nice conversation with Neil, his wife, and another family who had lost their husband and father only a few months earlier. There was a short program after dinner. Neil, being part of the board of directors spoke, and invited us up to the front to introduce us. This was not expected, and with a room full of Vietnam Vets who served in a very volatile area, we were humbled that they would give us a standing ovation, when it was US who should be doing it for them.
This display is only one of many of the times we have run into service members and vets that have showed how humble they are. For people to give their all for our country, then downplay what they have done, says so much about their character. Another time we met a WWII vet who's first introduction to war was the Battle of the Bulge. During the fight he was captured. When I thanked him for his service, his reply was, "Why would you thank me? I only made it through 3 days in combat!" As if the 13 months as a POW didn't count!
I am continually awed when I meet these hero's. To be in their presence makes me look at my situation in a different light. I can take some of their strength and wisdom to make a tragic incident in my life and make something good of it. I can straighted my back a bit more and hold my head high and vow to make the life of the next parent, next wounded warrior, or the next person who is suffering a bit better.
Another quote from the WWII vet rings true, "If you haven't had some pain in your life, you aren't really living." I guess it takes some pain to truly understand what life is really about.
We had a wonderful meal and nice conversation with Neil, his wife, and another family who had lost their husband and father only a few months earlier. There was a short program after dinner. Neil, being part of the board of directors spoke, and invited us up to the front to introduce us. This was not expected, and with a room full of Vietnam Vets who served in a very volatile area, we were humbled that they would give us a standing ovation, when it was US who should be doing it for them.
This display is only one of many of the times we have run into service members and vets that have showed how humble they are. For people to give their all for our country, then downplay what they have done, says so much about their character. Another time we met a WWII vet who's first introduction to war was the Battle of the Bulge. During the fight he was captured. When I thanked him for his service, his reply was, "Why would you thank me? I only made it through 3 days in combat!" As if the 13 months as a POW didn't count!
I am continually awed when I meet these hero's. To be in their presence makes me look at my situation in a different light. I can take some of their strength and wisdom to make a tragic incident in my life and make something good of it. I can straighted my back a bit more and hold my head high and vow to make the life of the next parent, next wounded warrior, or the next person who is suffering a bit better.
Another quote from the WWII vet rings true, "If you haven't had some pain in your life, you aren't really living." I guess it takes some pain to truly understand what life is really about.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Challenge Coin
While visiting Beckie on family day last Thursday I was in the museum's gift shop to purchase her units challenge coin as a gift to her. A challenge coin was traditionally presented as mementos of service in the Army Air Corps. When a pilot was shot down behind enemy lines during WWI, his identification taken from him, he was able to identify himself as American after his escape, by his unit coin. Today, these coins have spread through the military and beyond. They are larger than a 50 cent piece and usually say something about the giver. They are given as symbols of merit and achievement through a handshake. In my case, I have been given several as a token of appreciation.
As I paid for the coin, I noticed the gentleman behind the counter had a Purple Heart embroidered on his shirt, he also proudly had his stack of ribbons hanging around his neck. When I thanked him for his service, he said he wore the purple heart for those who did not return. I told him that my son was one of those, and pointed to my gold star pin. He bowed his head for several seconds, then looked up and simply said "I'm sorry". He let me pay then stopped me again, reached into his pocket and pulled out his coin to present to me.
I was stunned, I did not know this man, and he was giving me a very special coin indeed. On one side is the Purple Heart, the other is: Walter S Laban, 29 May 51, Korea, USMC. It was Walt I was speaking with, and I could see in his eyes, he never forgot those that did not come home with him. I held the coin in my clenched hand to my heart and with no words thanked him, we both left each other with a tear in our eyes.
Besides the graduation, this was the single most memorable moment of my trip. War has many casualties.
As I paid for the coin, I noticed the gentleman behind the counter had a Purple Heart embroidered on his shirt, he also proudly had his stack of ribbons hanging around his neck. When I thanked him for his service, he said he wore the purple heart for those who did not return. I told him that my son was one of those, and pointed to my gold star pin. He bowed his head for several seconds, then looked up and simply said "I'm sorry". He let me pay then stopped me again, reached into his pocket and pulled out his coin to present to me.
I was stunned, I did not know this man, and he was giving me a very special coin indeed. On one side is the Purple Heart, the other is: Walter S Laban, 29 May 51, Korea, USMC. It was Walt I was speaking with, and I could see in his eyes, he never forgot those that did not come home with him. I held the coin in my clenched hand to my heart and with no words thanked him, we both left each other with a tear in our eyes.
Besides the graduation, this was the single most memorable moment of my trip. War has many casualties.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Parris Island
I'm heading to Parris Island, South Carolina today to attend the boot camp graduation of my niece. I've been struggling on how I feel about this trip. Right now I am calm, but I never know how I am going to be once I am there.
I have been to a few of these graduations, the last being Curtis' in 2007. I am glad that all the others have been at MCRD in San Diego, so this will be a whole new venue and experience. But the ceremony, in true military fashion, will be the same. I'm happy to go and be there for Beckie, but in my mind it has a bit of a homecoming feel to it, so it makes me nervous. I'm proud of her, but worry about what she may encounter in the military, just the same as I had for Curtis. All of this is too familiar.
I've been told that a child's traumatic death can lead to symptoms of PTSD, and it is these events that make me believe it. I'm not saying I have it, it is not a disorder to be throwing around lightly, but sometimes when I am in these situations my anxiety rises, my heart races, concentration becomes poor and my mind will go numb.
Some people have suggested I don't do the things that bring on the stress, but what else do they suggest? Should I hole up in my house and never deal with these issues? I can see that is not the answer. It may be difficult, but facing these things head on is easier than running and hiding. I would only have to deal with it at possibly a more inopportune time. I would rather do it on my own terms.
Regardless of my issues, I will stand in support of Beckie's accomplishment. Only one percent of Americans serve in the armed forces and even fewer can 'claim the title, United States Marine'. She should be proud of herself, I am.
I have been to a few of these graduations, the last being Curtis' in 2007. I am glad that all the others have been at MCRD in San Diego, so this will be a whole new venue and experience. But the ceremony, in true military fashion, will be the same. I'm happy to go and be there for Beckie, but in my mind it has a bit of a homecoming feel to it, so it makes me nervous. I'm proud of her, but worry about what she may encounter in the military, just the same as I had for Curtis. All of this is too familiar.
I've been told that a child's traumatic death can lead to symptoms of PTSD, and it is these events that make me believe it. I'm not saying I have it, it is not a disorder to be throwing around lightly, but sometimes when I am in these situations my anxiety rises, my heart races, concentration becomes poor and my mind will go numb.
Some people have suggested I don't do the things that bring on the stress, but what else do they suggest? Should I hole up in my house and never deal with these issues? I can see that is not the answer. It may be difficult, but facing these things head on is easier than running and hiding. I would only have to deal with it at possibly a more inopportune time. I would rather do it on my own terms.
Regardless of my issues, I will stand in support of Beckie's accomplishment. Only one percent of Americans serve in the armed forces and even fewer can 'claim the title, United States Marine'. She should be proud of herself, I am.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Chicago with TTTT
When Dave and I bought the motorcycle only three months after Curtis' death last year, we didn't know that it would literally save our lives. We found it very therapeutic to get out and just ride, putting on 10,000 mile last summer. But the day that the Tribute To The Troops came to our house in September, we both knew they were the group we needed to be part of.
This past weekend, we traveled to Chicago with some of the Tribute riders to visit families. Illinois is starting their own chapter, and the Minnesota group is helping to get it started. Although Dave and I had gone on the remembrance ride this Spring, the first visits have a different impact and feel, so I felt as if we were going for the first time. Hearing stories from other riders, it sounds like every time feels like the first because every visit is as different from each other as the families.
We visited four families. As a Gold Star mother, I know the pain they are still feeling and how overwhelming the anticipation of what to expect from this group can be. At each visit, I got those same feelings. What would I say, how would they react? But the mother to mother embrace, the knowledge of our pain, was the same each time. I think sometimes we feel that we are the only ones going through this, or any of our life's troubles, and having that connection is powerful and healing.
Between the excessive heat and the emotions of the day, I was exhausted. I could have fallen asleep on my feet by the end of the day, but it was worth it. I get the chance to be with some amazing people, all with hearts of gold. They encourage us to talk of Curtis with comfort. We are fortunate to have found an outlet to make a tragic event into something good.
Thank you to all my new friends.
This past weekend, we traveled to Chicago with some of the Tribute riders to visit families. Illinois is starting their own chapter, and the Minnesota group is helping to get it started. Although Dave and I had gone on the remembrance ride this Spring, the first visits have a different impact and feel, so I felt as if we were going for the first time. Hearing stories from other riders, it sounds like every time feels like the first because every visit is as different from each other as the families.
We visited four families. As a Gold Star mother, I know the pain they are still feeling and how overwhelming the anticipation of what to expect from this group can be. At each visit, I got those same feelings. What would I say, how would they react? But the mother to mother embrace, the knowledge of our pain, was the same each time. I think sometimes we feel that we are the only ones going through this, or any of our life's troubles, and having that connection is powerful and healing.
Between the excessive heat and the emotions of the day, I was exhausted. I could have fallen asleep on my feet by the end of the day, but it was worth it. I get the chance to be with some amazing people, all with hearts of gold. They encourage us to talk of Curtis with comfort. We are fortunate to have found an outlet to make a tragic event into something good.
Thank you to all my new friends.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Rest Easy Marines
Yesterday two local heros were brought home. SGT Chad Frokjer and CPL Michael Nolan, both United States Marines. Anytime I hear of another KIA it weights heavy on my mind, but a Marine is especially difficult. Coming on the heals of a holiday is hard as well, I think of what the family was going through when the rest of us were celebrating without much care, much the same as our family on Easter.
Today, for the first time, Dave feels the need to be at the viewings to support the families. I have yet to decide what I am going to do. I know how it felt to have other Gold Star family members attend the services to show their support, but I also know how difficult and emotional it will be.
I probably will wait until the last minute to make that final choice, even as I sit here writing about it I am flipping back and forth. No matter what that decision is, I will be thinking of the families today and in the coming days and months, knowing the journey they must travel I will keep them in my prayers.
Rest easy Marines.
Today, for the first time, Dave feels the need to be at the viewings to support the families. I have yet to decide what I am going to do. I know how it felt to have other Gold Star family members attend the services to show their support, but I also know how difficult and emotional it will be.
I probably will wait until the last minute to make that final choice, even as I sit here writing about it I am flipping back and forth. No matter what that decision is, I will be thinking of the families today and in the coming days and months, knowing the journey they must travel I will keep them in my prayers.
Rest easy Marines.
Friday, July 1, 2011
The Crash
It's only a matter of time. There are so many times when we are together with some great people, lifting up our hero's, supporting us through the most difficult period of our lives. The gatherings are uplifting, they help to keep a memory alive, yet at the same time they rip the scab off the wound one more time. Typically they are followed by 'The Crash'.
It's a double edge sword. No one wants the memory of their loved one forgotten. We have a huge network of people who want to help to keep our hero's and what they stood for alive to make sure we all understand what price our freedoms come at. The generosity is overwhelming at times. Although the gifts and memorabilia make me feel grateful, it is a strange sensation to have such notoriety.
The crash is something that comes later. I didn't feel it after the golf benefit, yet after the Patriot ride I hit that wall hard. I think it was because the events were very different from each other, or it was a delayed reaction, I simply didn't have time to fall. The benefit felt light and a celebration of Curtis' life, and although the ride was uplifting, it had a heavier feel to me. That following week was rough. I had trouble concentrating, I found it difficult making small talk with patients, the tears were too close to the surface for comfort, and I snapped at Dave or anyone else in my path. By the end of the week the stress led to a migraine.
After some much needed rest, I feel better. I know that I need to take the time to take care of myself. I need to keep going to these events, not only for the help it gives me, but to help others. Hopefully the crashes will become less often or at least soften.
It's a double edge sword. No one wants the memory of their loved one forgotten. We have a huge network of people who want to help to keep our hero's and what they stood for alive to make sure we all understand what price our freedoms come at. The generosity is overwhelming at times. Although the gifts and memorabilia make me feel grateful, it is a strange sensation to have such notoriety.
The crash is something that comes later. I didn't feel it after the golf benefit, yet after the Patriot ride I hit that wall hard. I think it was because the events were very different from each other, or it was a delayed reaction, I simply didn't have time to fall. The benefit felt light and a celebration of Curtis' life, and although the ride was uplifting, it had a heavier feel to me. That following week was rough. I had trouble concentrating, I found it difficult making small talk with patients, the tears were too close to the surface for comfort, and I snapped at Dave or anyone else in my path. By the end of the week the stress led to a migraine.
After some much needed rest, I feel better. I know that I need to take the time to take care of myself. I need to keep going to these events, not only for the help it gives me, but to help others. Hopefully the crashes will become less often or at least soften.
Friday, June 24, 2011
This Years Patriot Ride
Dave and I rode with the most passionate and patriotic people last weekend. What a sight to see over 3000 bikes arriving for the patriot ride in Hamm Lake. The group consisted of Patriot Guard members, Tribute to the Troops riders, and Gold Star family and friends.
What a well organized gathering. After breakfast and checking out the many vendors, there was a program before the ride. One of our friends and fellow Gold Star mother, Joanne, who helped organize the Gold Star events for the day, talked of her introduction to the Patriot Guard with the death of her sons friend only about a year before her own son was killed in Irag.
There is always an exciting energy in the air when that many bikes start up at the same time. With that many bikes, the group left the park in waves. Along the route, there were hundreds of citizens, from babies to the elderly, out waving flags and signs of support. I always love to see the faces of people as that many motorcycles pass in a group. The smiles and look of awe makes me feel like I'm part of something wonderful, which I am.
A few miles before our designated stop, we drove past several Soldiers and Marines memorializing the Minnesota fallen in the past year, what a sobering way to remember what the ride is truly about.
At the Cambridge Armory there was a festival feeling. A band, food and a trick motorcycle riding demonstration. That is when the rain started! Even though we were getting wet, the attitude of the day did not change. When we left the armory, the rain picked up even more, so much more that I remember telling Dave, "I feel baptized!" But again, looking around, I saw nothing but smiles on faces, and the spectators on the side did not go home either.
The day ended with many speakers, a letter was read from a fallen soldier to his daughter, and retired WWII vet spoke. The colors were retired and taps played, always an emotional moment. Overall it was a great day spent with the most wonderful people I wish I had never met.
What a well organized gathering. After breakfast and checking out the many vendors, there was a program before the ride. One of our friends and fellow Gold Star mother, Joanne, who helped organize the Gold Star events for the day, talked of her introduction to the Patriot Guard with the death of her sons friend only about a year before her own son was killed in Irag.
There is always an exciting energy in the air when that many bikes start up at the same time. With that many bikes, the group left the park in waves. Along the route, there were hundreds of citizens, from babies to the elderly, out waving flags and signs of support. I always love to see the faces of people as that many motorcycles pass in a group. The smiles and look of awe makes me feel like I'm part of something wonderful, which I am.
A few miles before our designated stop, we drove past several Soldiers and Marines memorializing the Minnesota fallen in the past year, what a sobering way to remember what the ride is truly about.
At the Cambridge Armory there was a festival feeling. A band, food and a trick motorcycle riding demonstration. That is when the rain started! Even though we were getting wet, the attitude of the day did not change. When we left the armory, the rain picked up even more, so much more that I remember telling Dave, "I feel baptized!" But again, looking around, I saw nothing but smiles on faces, and the spectators on the side did not go home either.
The day ended with many speakers, a letter was read from a fallen soldier to his daughter, and retired WWII vet spoke. The colors were retired and taps played, always an emotional moment. Overall it was a great day spent with the most wonderful people I wish I had never met.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Last Years Patriot Ride
This weekend we will be going to the Patriot Ride in Hamm Lake. It is a ride that is a fundraiser for the Patriot Guard. This will be our first trip to this gathering. Last year, when Curtis was to be one of the honored, we were headed to Hawaii for his units memorial.
When we found out Curtis was to be stationed in Hawaii, we made the decision to travel there once, after his deployments. The expense was what held us back, it disappointed us he wasn't stationed in California, a place that was easier and less expensive to get to, we would have been there several times in 3 or 4 years. So, the night before Curtis was killed, we thought it was safe to purchase our airline tickets for our 2 week family vacation. The very next day, our vacation to paradise turned into a trip to hell.
Leading up to the trip, I couldn't talk to people about it. Anytime I mentioned it, it was met with enthusiasm about what we should do, where we should go, some could not understand how I was not excited about such a 'vacation'. My only thought was I was going out there to bury my son again.
We went with the intentions to make the best of it. We traveled around Oahu, went to Pearl Harbor, visited beaches, snorkeled and enjoyed a luau, but all with a heavy heart. The beauty of the island was lost on us. The positive part was meeting and spending some time with many of Curtis' friends who could tell us stories, it was healing for both them and us.
Many times we would mention that we would have rather been at the Patriot Ride we had been invited to. It not only is a ride, but a gathering of Gold Star Families. It is a wonderful event, I understand, to make and solidify those relationships that help to heal and help others. I am looking forward to the weekend, and can't wait to write more about it, I know it will be with more enthusiasm than last years 'trip'.
When we found out Curtis was to be stationed in Hawaii, we made the decision to travel there once, after his deployments. The expense was what held us back, it disappointed us he wasn't stationed in California, a place that was easier and less expensive to get to, we would have been there several times in 3 or 4 years. So, the night before Curtis was killed, we thought it was safe to purchase our airline tickets for our 2 week family vacation. The very next day, our vacation to paradise turned into a trip to hell.
Leading up to the trip, I couldn't talk to people about it. Anytime I mentioned it, it was met with enthusiasm about what we should do, where we should go, some could not understand how I was not excited about such a 'vacation'. My only thought was I was going out there to bury my son again.
We went with the intentions to make the best of it. We traveled around Oahu, went to Pearl Harbor, visited beaches, snorkeled and enjoyed a luau, but all with a heavy heart. The beauty of the island was lost on us. The positive part was meeting and spending some time with many of Curtis' friends who could tell us stories, it was healing for both them and us.
Many times we would mention that we would have rather been at the Patriot Ride we had been invited to. It not only is a ride, but a gathering of Gold Star Families. It is a wonderful event, I understand, to make and solidify those relationships that help to heal and help others. I am looking forward to the weekend, and can't wait to write more about it, I know it will be with more enthusiasm than last years 'trip'.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Golf Benefit
After six months of planning, the golf benefit is now in the books. We had a perfect day all around. The weather couldn't have been more perfect, volunteers turned out in force to get things set up in quick time, and more golfers showed up than expected.
Not that it was difficult to top our expectations. When Dave and I first envisioned this outing, we thought if 30 or 40 people came out we would be happy. We had 150 for golf and served 250 for dinner. We also had about 40 Tribute to the Troops and Patriot Guard riders make an appearance to ride the bluff country in Curtis' honor. There was so much support and love, it was hard to take it all in.
We started the day with a short program at the putting green. It was the only solemn moment of the day. Although we were there to remember, the day was to be a celebration of a life lived, doing something that he loved to do. After we got the golfers off, Dave, Katie, Mike, the photographer, and I set out on the course to meet each foursome, it was fun to see everyone having a good time, and it gave us a chance to meet all who came. Dinner was served a bit late, but nobody seemed to care, it was delicious.
Afterward I heard a few stories of eagles that makes be believe that Curtis was present and approved of the day. While Chaplain Morris was speaking, I'm told Angel, the eagle from The Eagle Center in Wabasha, spread her wings wide and posed for the crowd for several minutes, she also posed, wings spread for the gold star family picture. And, on hole six, a hole sponsor and friend watched two eagles circling the course for the afternoon.
Thank you everyone for a wonderful day and beautiful tribute.
Not that it was difficult to top our expectations. When Dave and I first envisioned this outing, we thought if 30 or 40 people came out we would be happy. We had 150 for golf and served 250 for dinner. We also had about 40 Tribute to the Troops and Patriot Guard riders make an appearance to ride the bluff country in Curtis' honor. There was so much support and love, it was hard to take it all in.
We started the day with a short program at the putting green. It was the only solemn moment of the day. Although we were there to remember, the day was to be a celebration of a life lived, doing something that he loved to do. After we got the golfers off, Dave, Katie, Mike, the photographer, and I set out on the course to meet each foursome, it was fun to see everyone having a good time, and it gave us a chance to meet all who came. Dinner was served a bit late, but nobody seemed to care, it was delicious.
Afterward I heard a few stories of eagles that makes be believe that Curtis was present and approved of the day. While Chaplain Morris was speaking, I'm told Angel, the eagle from The Eagle Center in Wabasha, spread her wings wide and posed for the crowd for several minutes, she also posed, wings spread for the gold star family picture. And, on hole six, a hole sponsor and friend watched two eagles circling the course for the afternoon.
Thank you everyone for a wonderful day and beautiful tribute.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Memorial Day Weekend
In years past, Dave and I would camp with his family on Memorial Day Weekend, then attend the service at the Soldiers Field Memorial on Monday. It was a tradition that we followed for many years. This year, there were so many things that we needed to attend, that camping just didn't fit in.
Dave and I have been on the committee to get the Bell of Honor ready for it's unveiling. For those who don't know, the Bell of Honor is a 3000 pound, 101 year old bell, that two brothers in town purchased to be able to ring at funerals of the fallen, as well as veterans, police, firefighters and EMT. Friday the committee was invited to Algona, Iowa, to Aluma. This is the factory that custom made the trailer to house the bell, as well as up to four motorcycles. The owners shut down the factory for the afternoon to allow their employees to view the final product with the graphics and bell. It was a wet ride on the way back, but it was a great day seeing and talking to these people who were so proud of their work, and impressed they were a part in this project.
Saturday was the DAV's Thank a Vet Celebration. Again, we were asked to set the bell up for display. It drew a crowd. One person that saw it on his way past, and turned around to see it closer is a gentleman from Dover, Delaware. I saw him having difficulty looking at some things on a table and went to help him out. In our conversation, I discovered he was a Air Force Vet, now working with the incoming families of the fallen at Dover Air Force Base. We had gone there to view the dignified transfer, the witnessing of our sons body returning from overseas. He was in the area for a funeral of an MIA Airman shot down in the Vietnam War, whose body was discovered last year. We had a nice conversation, he was able to understand a families view, and we were able to put a different face to a place we have grown to despise. Afterward we had a nice picnic with family, and Sunday was spent with our soon to be son in laws family.
Memorial Day was, and may always be, the most difficult. Seeing Curtis' name on the wall always takes my breath away. Sitting with family and friends, we listened to the main speaker, our Pastor, talk of the community support following Curtis' funeral. Pastor Wahl is a wonderful orator, and the story is beautiful. So many people lined streets as the funeral procession passed for 65 miles to his resting place. That was only the beginning of the show of support we have received.
After the service, once again the Bell of Honor was brought in for it's dedication. It is an impressive sight, my only wish is that we never have to ring it for another fallen soldier or marine.
The VFW had a pig roast and band afterward. We had a great afternoon of conversation and laughs with some wonderful people. When I speak of a 'New Life', this is what it is about, a lot of sadness, but mostly good. I am blessed to have so many people to have walked into my life.
Dave and I have been on the committee to get the Bell of Honor ready for it's unveiling. For those who don't know, the Bell of Honor is a 3000 pound, 101 year old bell, that two brothers in town purchased to be able to ring at funerals of the fallen, as well as veterans, police, firefighters and EMT. Friday the committee was invited to Algona, Iowa, to Aluma. This is the factory that custom made the trailer to house the bell, as well as up to four motorcycles. The owners shut down the factory for the afternoon to allow their employees to view the final product with the graphics and bell. It was a wet ride on the way back, but it was a great day seeing and talking to these people who were so proud of their work, and impressed they were a part in this project.
Saturday was the DAV's Thank a Vet Celebration. Again, we were asked to set the bell up for display. It drew a crowd. One person that saw it on his way past, and turned around to see it closer is a gentleman from Dover, Delaware. I saw him having difficulty looking at some things on a table and went to help him out. In our conversation, I discovered he was a Air Force Vet, now working with the incoming families of the fallen at Dover Air Force Base. We had gone there to view the dignified transfer, the witnessing of our sons body returning from overseas. He was in the area for a funeral of an MIA Airman shot down in the Vietnam War, whose body was discovered last year. We had a nice conversation, he was able to understand a families view, and we were able to put a different face to a place we have grown to despise. Afterward we had a nice picnic with family, and Sunday was spent with our soon to be son in laws family.
Memorial Day was, and may always be, the most difficult. Seeing Curtis' name on the wall always takes my breath away. Sitting with family and friends, we listened to the main speaker, our Pastor, talk of the community support following Curtis' funeral. Pastor Wahl is a wonderful orator, and the story is beautiful. So many people lined streets as the funeral procession passed for 65 miles to his resting place. That was only the beginning of the show of support we have received.
After the service, once again the Bell of Honor was brought in for it's dedication. It is an impressive sight, my only wish is that we never have to ring it for another fallen soldier or marine.
The VFW had a pig roast and band afterward. We had a great afternoon of conversation and laughs with some wonderful people. When I speak of a 'New Life', this is what it is about, a lot of sadness, but mostly good. I am blessed to have so many people to have walked into my life.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Bi-Polar?
As I sat down to write a post, my mind was blank. Typically I have a subject to write about, and can type a post quickly. I have a few subjects going through my mind this week, but I can't seem to get them written down. The most obvious subject this week should be Memorial Day, but after starting and re-starting several times, I decided to put that post on hold for now.
I have had a bi-polar week, some really big highs, and some really low lows. For example, while working on the golf benefit the other night, I discovered a mistake I had made, and even though it was easily fixable, it put me into a tail spin. I felt like my brain had a glitch that couldn't be fixed. While talking to Dave, I couldn't finish a thought and I was putting one persons first name with another's last so Dave was confused as to who I was talking about, yet I was unable to correct what I was saying. Was I losing my mind? It frustrated me to the point of a breakdown.
The following day, I felt as if I was in a fog, just getting through the day. During my lunch break I got a call from Dave with news that a balloon pilot in town we had been speaking with had a cancelled rider for that evening, and would like to take one of us up with the Honor and Remember flag to remind people of what the Holiday weekend is really about. My day just got better, but at the same time it made me think of all the generosity of people who didn't know Curtis or us, and made me cry again. Once again, bi-polar!
I'm sure that much of this is coming from the stress of so many things on my plate. Concentration has been a problem over the last year, and I need to write everything, (I mean every thing!), down to get it done, so the list is very long, and overwhelming to me. I'm not complaining, the benefit has been a good thing for Dave and I to focus on over the last 6 months, but stressful at a time when my mind just isn't working the same.
Just like everything else, I will get through this because of all the generosity and good hearts out there thinking of me and helping me along the way.
The balloon ride was amazing, thank you Mike.
I have had a bi-polar week, some really big highs, and some really low lows. For example, while working on the golf benefit the other night, I discovered a mistake I had made, and even though it was easily fixable, it put me into a tail spin. I felt like my brain had a glitch that couldn't be fixed. While talking to Dave, I couldn't finish a thought and I was putting one persons first name with another's last so Dave was confused as to who I was talking about, yet I was unable to correct what I was saying. Was I losing my mind? It frustrated me to the point of a breakdown.
The following day, I felt as if I was in a fog, just getting through the day. During my lunch break I got a call from Dave with news that a balloon pilot in town we had been speaking with had a cancelled rider for that evening, and would like to take one of us up with the Honor and Remember flag to remind people of what the Holiday weekend is really about. My day just got better, but at the same time it made me think of all the generosity of people who didn't know Curtis or us, and made me cry again. Once again, bi-polar!
I'm sure that much of this is coming from the stress of so many things on my plate. Concentration has been a problem over the last year, and I need to write everything, (I mean every thing!), down to get it done, so the list is very long, and overwhelming to me. I'm not complaining, the benefit has been a good thing for Dave and I to focus on over the last 6 months, but stressful at a time when my mind just isn't working the same.
Just like everything else, I will get through this because of all the generosity and good hearts out there thinking of me and helping me along the way.
The balloon ride was amazing, thank you Mike.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Tribute to the Troops
This weekend Dave and I are going on a remembrance ride with Tribute to the Troops. Many of this group are already members of the Patriot Guard, but wanted a bit more. The Patriot Guards mission is to honor the family by surrounding and protecting them at the funeral, but they are not allowed to approach the families, the Tribute to the Troops visits families each year to comfort them and to remind them that they will never forget. The ride this weekend will re-visit some of those families.
Last fall we were one of the families visited for the first time. We had been invited to the Tee it up for the Troops event in Mendota Heights, but because this group was coming, declined. JB, the founder of the golf benefit proceeded to tell us that the Tribute riders stopped at his event, and we were the first stop of the weekend. That is how we ended up at the Capital to ride to our own visit, apparently the first family to ever do this.
We didn't know anyone as we rode in, but with our gold star flag on the back of the bike, we got directed to the front of the line. After signing in there was a picture of the group on the steps of the Capital, when we were introduced, many people were surprised, not knowing we were going to be there, and we received many hugs, a gesture we would receive many of that day. For a Friday the attendance was incredible, over 100 bikes with about 140 riders total. It was overwhelming to think that this many people just genuinely care and took time off to show it. After a stop at the golf benefit, we rode with the group to Rochester, only breaking from the group to get home to watch the sight of that many motorcycles enter our neighborhood. As we waited, we could hear the roar of so many bikes several blocks away, even though we knew what was coming, it was still a sight to see. After a presentation and some kind words, we received a hug from every one of the riders. There were many tears, but they were not all tears of sadness, it felt good to meet these outstanding people. We didn't ride to the rest of the visits that weekend, we didn't think we were ready for that, but Emily and Dave rode to Camp Ripley with the group on Sunday and we all attended the banquet and concert that followed. That too turned out to be incredibly emotional and inspiring.
After that weekend Dave and I knew this is a group we wanted to be part of. Even with the threat of rain this weekend, we will ride with pride. These families deserve the best of what we can offer. When it is said, we will never forget, this group puts words into action.
Last fall we were one of the families visited for the first time. We had been invited to the Tee it up for the Troops event in Mendota Heights, but because this group was coming, declined. JB, the founder of the golf benefit proceeded to tell us that the Tribute riders stopped at his event, and we were the first stop of the weekend. That is how we ended up at the Capital to ride to our own visit, apparently the first family to ever do this.
We didn't know anyone as we rode in, but with our gold star flag on the back of the bike, we got directed to the front of the line. After signing in there was a picture of the group on the steps of the Capital, when we were introduced, many people were surprised, not knowing we were going to be there, and we received many hugs, a gesture we would receive many of that day. For a Friday the attendance was incredible, over 100 bikes with about 140 riders total. It was overwhelming to think that this many people just genuinely care and took time off to show it. After a stop at the golf benefit, we rode with the group to Rochester, only breaking from the group to get home to watch the sight of that many motorcycles enter our neighborhood. As we waited, we could hear the roar of so many bikes several blocks away, even though we knew what was coming, it was still a sight to see. After a presentation and some kind words, we received a hug from every one of the riders. There were many tears, but they were not all tears of sadness, it felt good to meet these outstanding people. We didn't ride to the rest of the visits that weekend, we didn't think we were ready for that, but Emily and Dave rode to Camp Ripley with the group on Sunday and we all attended the banquet and concert that followed. That too turned out to be incredibly emotional and inspiring.
After that weekend Dave and I knew this is a group we wanted to be part of. Even with the threat of rain this weekend, we will ride with pride. These families deserve the best of what we can offer. When it is said, we will never forget, this group puts words into action.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Beckie
Sometimes an event changes people. When Curtis died there were many people that were touched by his sacrifice. One brave young woman in my life made a drastic change in her life because she felt it was what she needed and wanted to do.
Beckie is my niece. She has a degree in music education and played taps, beautifully I may add, for Curtis at his burial. With so many budget cuts over the last several years, a music position is hard to find. Beckie relocated from Rochester to Tucsan, AZ for her first job. She walked into a bit of a bees nest when she got there. The former instructor had not prepared his students in their respective instrument, and she felt she was way over her head as a first year teacher. Without the support of parents or even other teachers, she felt lost and alone. While visiting a friend one weekend an old idea came up again. Her dream of being part of a military band. She had thought of it several times in high school and throughout college, but never acted on it. After playing taps for such an emotional event, she wanted to join to relive that honor and pride again. After passing the audition, she told me she would have never passed it out of high school because it was so difficult, it's no wonder the military bands are elite.
Beckie didn't audition for just any military band, she is going to be part of the Marine Corps Band. As a female vet myself, I was able to prepare her for the 'boys club' she was about to enter, or at least try. I am so proud of her, to follow a dream, knowing there are risks, no matter how great or small. She is in boot camp now and I wish her luck, I know she can accomplish anything she sets her mind to. Dave and I will welcome another Marine into the family with pride.
Beckie is my niece. She has a degree in music education and played taps, beautifully I may add, for Curtis at his burial. With so many budget cuts over the last several years, a music position is hard to find. Beckie relocated from Rochester to Tucsan, AZ for her first job. She walked into a bit of a bees nest when she got there. The former instructor had not prepared his students in their respective instrument, and she felt she was way over her head as a first year teacher. Without the support of parents or even other teachers, she felt lost and alone. While visiting a friend one weekend an old idea came up again. Her dream of being part of a military band. She had thought of it several times in high school and throughout college, but never acted on it. After playing taps for such an emotional event, she wanted to join to relive that honor and pride again. After passing the audition, she told me she would have never passed it out of high school because it was so difficult, it's no wonder the military bands are elite.
Beckie didn't audition for just any military band, she is going to be part of the Marine Corps Band. As a female vet myself, I was able to prepare her for the 'boys club' she was about to enter, or at least try. I am so proud of her, to follow a dream, knowing there are risks, no matter how great or small. She is in boot camp now and I wish her luck, I know she can accomplish anything she sets her mind to. Dave and I will welcome another Marine into the family with pride.
Monday, May 9, 2011
The Boulder
Last Sunday I attended the Scoops for Troops event in Eagan. It is an event that was started by three other Gold Star Families. Dave and I met our friend Jamie, and my sister and brother in law, Joy and Brian, there. Despite the freezing weather, there was a good turn out for the run/walk.
We set out for the 3K walk, and Joy and I with our long legs soon left the rest of our group in the dust, but it gave us time to talk. Joy told me about a movie she had seen about a mothers loss, and the struggles she faced trying to move forward. At one point the character asked her mother if she would ever get over this. Her mother told her that, No, it is as if she has been given a brick to forever carry with her, sometimes an hour or even a day may go by and she will forget, but then she will put her hand in her pocket, and the brick will still be there.
I have thought about this all week. As always, I had to put my own twist on things. In my life I have been given a stone, a brick and a boulder. My father, my sister, and my son. The stone and brick can be placed in my pockets, but I must carry the boulder on my shoulders. The stone and brick threw my center of balance off, but the boulder has changed my life permanently. Many people have noticed my struggle to carry it and come to help, but they always place it back where it belongs. I someday may become strong enough to get used to the weight and not notice it as much, but it will always be there.
Learning how to maneuver through life with this burden is the challenge. I think Dave and I have a good start by reaching out to others, attending as many events as possible, and keeping his name, and what he stood for out there. Maybe by doing this, even Curtis is helping to lighten the load.
We set out for the 3K walk, and Joy and I with our long legs soon left the rest of our group in the dust, but it gave us time to talk. Joy told me about a movie she had seen about a mothers loss, and the struggles she faced trying to move forward. At one point the character asked her mother if she would ever get over this. Her mother told her that, No, it is as if she has been given a brick to forever carry with her, sometimes an hour or even a day may go by and she will forget, but then she will put her hand in her pocket, and the brick will still be there.
I have thought about this all week. As always, I had to put my own twist on things. In my life I have been given a stone, a brick and a boulder. My father, my sister, and my son. The stone and brick can be placed in my pockets, but I must carry the boulder on my shoulders. The stone and brick threw my center of balance off, but the boulder has changed my life permanently. Many people have noticed my struggle to carry it and come to help, but they always place it back where it belongs. I someday may become strong enough to get used to the weight and not notice it as much, but it will always be there.
Learning how to maneuver through life with this burden is the challenge. I think Dave and I have a good start by reaching out to others, attending as many events as possible, and keeping his name, and what he stood for out there. Maybe by doing this, even Curtis is helping to lighten the load.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Troubling Week
This week has been a very troubling time for me. On Sunday the news that Osama Bin Laden had been killed put me in a strange place. I felt no sorrow, I felt no elation, I felt nothing. But, as the week goes by my anxiety has reached higher and higher.
I have been subjected to news clips, newspapers and facebook posts, forcing me to look at my sons killer over and over. The clips of people in the streets worries me. Americans were appalled that there was celebrations after 9/11, how are they any different by celebrating this death? Someone said to me that it was more a display of relief, but the clips could easily be misinterpreted. There are so many of our men and women still in very dangerous areas, including Curtis' unit. The man may be dead, but the Taliban isn't! It may be a good start, but there will be another to step up and lead, who's to say that person won't be more extreme or dangerous?
My phone rang off the hook on Monday looking for my opinion, I answered none of them. I can't say that I am not glad that a man is dead, I am, but it does nothing to bring back what I want most, my son.
I have been subjected to news clips, newspapers and facebook posts, forcing me to look at my sons killer over and over. The clips of people in the streets worries me. Americans were appalled that there was celebrations after 9/11, how are they any different by celebrating this death? Someone said to me that it was more a display of relief, but the clips could easily be misinterpreted. There are so many of our men and women still in very dangerous areas, including Curtis' unit. The man may be dead, but the Taliban isn't! It may be a good start, but there will be another to step up and lead, who's to say that person won't be more extreme or dangerous?
My phone rang off the hook on Monday looking for my opinion, I answered none of them. I can't say that I am not glad that a man is dead, I am, but it does nothing to bring back what I want most, my son.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Who Has Seen the Wind?
When I was in high school I was in several solo and ensemble competitions through choir. In my senior year I was part of a trio that sang 'Who Has Seen the Wind?'. We did well with this piece and even sang at a few churches after the competition. I loved this song, and I have found myself singing it often over the years. I mention this because of an incident that happened grave site has made me think of this song even more.
The day of the funeral was a sunny and pleasant day, it was a bit windy, but not overly so. After the grave site service, taps and the 21 gun salute, two Marines came to fold the flag. As soon as they picked up the flag, a wind gust came. As I watched the flag balloon up, the Marines held on for dear life. The gust lasted for what seemed minutes. I remember feeling that I was watching something incredible. Afterward, someone said to me, "Isn't it wonderful we got to see his spirit leave?"
I relayed this story to our Pastor, who reminded me that the spirit is often referred to as the wind. I have seen the wind and truly believe his spirit is free.
The day of the funeral was a sunny and pleasant day, it was a bit windy, but not overly so. After the grave site service, taps and the 21 gun salute, two Marines came to fold the flag. As soon as they picked up the flag, a wind gust came. As I watched the flag balloon up, the Marines held on for dear life. The gust lasted for what seemed minutes. I remember feeling that I was watching something incredible. Afterward, someone said to me, "Isn't it wonderful we got to see his spirit leave?"
I relayed this story to our Pastor, who reminded me that the spirit is often referred to as the wind. I have seen the wind and truly believe his spirit is free.
Friday, April 22, 2011
God's Wink
Last week Dave and I stopped at the VFW for a drink. It seems to be our new hang out because so many of our new friends are there. One in particular was there that night, Wayne. He is a man that can get things done. He had the vision for the Soldiers Field Memorial Wall, and despite opposition, a beautiful memorial was completed.
We were chatting with a few others at the table, when something that was said reminded Wayne of something, he started to tell his story but stopped short, rethinking if he wanted to continue. Trying yet again, I could tell by his actions, it was a story relating to Dave and I, hence his hesitation. After some convincing, we got him to continue.
The night before Curtis' body was to return to Rochester last year, there was a candlelight vigil held at the wall. Wayne was upset that he wouldn't be able to attend the service because his wife was receiving an award for 15 years of service at the Ronald McDonald House. In the mean time, he had promised our case officer that he would raise the money to pay for the luncheon following the funeral. After the award ceremony, while at the sink in the restroom , he started up a conversation with a man he didn't know. They continued into the hall, when Wayne excused himself, telling the man that he had to leave to raise $2000 by morning. After explaining what the money was for, the man told him that he was good for half that amount, and to call if he needed more. Wayne had been talking to the owner of the company Dave works for. There was more than one reason Wayne was not able to attend the vigil.
After hearing the story, I certainly had chills, but the reaction of another woman at the table was more to the point, "Well, isn't that God's wink". After we all had a moment of silence, I thanked Wayne for the story, I could use more winks from God.
We were chatting with a few others at the table, when something that was said reminded Wayne of something, he started to tell his story but stopped short, rethinking if he wanted to continue. Trying yet again, I could tell by his actions, it was a story relating to Dave and I, hence his hesitation. After some convincing, we got him to continue.
The night before Curtis' body was to return to Rochester last year, there was a candlelight vigil held at the wall. Wayne was upset that he wouldn't be able to attend the service because his wife was receiving an award for 15 years of service at the Ronald McDonald House. In the mean time, he had promised our case officer that he would raise the money to pay for the luncheon following the funeral. After the award ceremony, while at the sink in the restroom , he started up a conversation with a man he didn't know. They continued into the hall, when Wayne excused himself, telling the man that he had to leave to raise $2000 by morning. After explaining what the money was for, the man told him that he was good for half that amount, and to call if he needed more. Wayne had been talking to the owner of the company Dave works for. There was more than one reason Wayne was not able to attend the vigil.
After hearing the story, I certainly had chills, but the reaction of another woman at the table was more to the point, "Well, isn't that God's wink". After we all had a moment of silence, I thanked Wayne for the story, I could use more winks from God.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Bull Riding
Last weekend Dave and I went to the bull riding contest in town. We were guests of one of the promoters and former Marine, Matt. To our surprise, the night was dedicated to Curtis' memory, again. We made a point of going to this event this year because after the most difficult week of our lives last year, this was a good memory.
The bull riding contest was held on the 10th on April last year, the day of the funeral. There was talk that up to 20 seats were being reserved for us. I just remember thinking that I couldn't possibly be feeling up to going to such a thing only hours after I buried my son, but the housewives, Curtis' buddies, who had been camping out at our house for the week, Travis, our case officer and his driver, Dave and Emily seemed to need the decompression time. The thought of being home alone was more difficult than going and being with them.
Bull riding fans are great patriots. The pre-event ceremony honors any attending veterans. Last year the announcer made some wonderful comments about Curtis, and dedicated the night to his memory, he also made mention that his family was in attendance, we received a standing ovation. If the Star Spangled Banner didn't make me cry enough, that gesture did. What I remember of the night, in my mind numbing haze, was good. Strange to say, but it felt like the place to be. I think Curtis would have liked that we didn't go home to hole up, but went to celebrate a bit. He hated sitting around with nothing to do.
Dave and I know we will make this an annual event. it puts a positive twist on a painful memory.
The bull riding contest was held on the 10th on April last year, the day of the funeral. There was talk that up to 20 seats were being reserved for us. I just remember thinking that I couldn't possibly be feeling up to going to such a thing only hours after I buried my son, but the housewives, Curtis' buddies, who had been camping out at our house for the week, Travis, our case officer and his driver, Dave and Emily seemed to need the decompression time. The thought of being home alone was more difficult than going and being with them.
Bull riding fans are great patriots. The pre-event ceremony honors any attending veterans. Last year the announcer made some wonderful comments about Curtis, and dedicated the night to his memory, he also made mention that his family was in attendance, we received a standing ovation. If the Star Spangled Banner didn't make me cry enough, that gesture did. What I remember of the night, in my mind numbing haze, was good. Strange to say, but it felt like the place to be. I think Curtis would have liked that we didn't go home to hole up, but went to celebrate a bit. He hated sitting around with nothing to do.
Dave and I know we will make this an annual event. it puts a positive twist on a painful memory.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Housewives of K-Bay
This week has been a time of reflection of the events that happened after Curtis' death and leading up to the funeral. Some, of course, are sad and difficult, but one display of support stands out. The young ladies that traveled here from Kaneohe Bay, Hawaii to support their friend, Katie.
Throughout their husbands deployment, these woman banded together to laugh, cry and support each other. Like any time of stress, there was also a bit of drama involved, and I would at times be an ear for Katie to vent. But overall they were each others rocks.
The week following Curtis' death, they started showing up at our house to show their support. I wondered what was going through their minds. What strong woman to be able to be here, when this could easily be them in this position, and at the same time their husbands were still in Afghanistan fighting. They were wonderful to have around, the stories they could tell, the help they wanted to lend, no wonder some of our finest young men wanted them for their wives. I'm not sure who started it, but to us they became the 'Housewives of K-Bay' What they had gone through is certainly fitting for reality TV.
Thank you Kelsey, Kelly, Leah, Veronica and any of the other housewives here in spirit, I love you all. You are some of the strongest young ladies I know.
Throughout their husbands deployment, these woman banded together to laugh, cry and support each other. Like any time of stress, there was also a bit of drama involved, and I would at times be an ear for Katie to vent. But overall they were each others rocks.
The week following Curtis' death, they started showing up at our house to show their support. I wondered what was going through their minds. What strong woman to be able to be here, when this could easily be them in this position, and at the same time their husbands were still in Afghanistan fighting. They were wonderful to have around, the stories they could tell, the help they wanted to lend, no wonder some of our finest young men wanted them for their wives. I'm not sure who started it, but to us they became the 'Housewives of K-Bay' What they had gone through is certainly fitting for reality TV.
Thank you Kelsey, Kelly, Leah, Veronica and any of the other housewives here in spirit, I love you all. You are some of the strongest young ladies I know.
Monday, April 4, 2011
1st Anniversary
Leading up to this important date was tough. We had many phone calls all week wondering what we had planned for the first anniversary of Curtis' death. We decided in the last week what we were going to do. Dave was making a small memorial that he wanted to place at the Soldiers Field Memorial Wall, which Curtis' name is on, then we would head to the Hamm Lake VFW, where the Tribute to the Troops group was meeting, to be with some other Gold Star Families as well as some great patriots.
The gathering at the wall was going to be just a few people who we felt have been there for us over the last year. As the week passed, a few more were invited. We gathered at our house to caravan to the wall. As we approched the downtown fire station, I could see the fire engine out with it's lights on. I didn't know this was for us. As we turned the corner, we were overwhelmed by the sight, the VFW color guard, the hook and ladder truck with the flag on top of the ladder, the police cars lined up with the drivers respectfully saluting, and the many citizens waving flags lined up for the next two blocks to our next turn. Dave recalls almost tipping the bike over he was so shocked by the sight. I could only wave and mouth "Thank you" as I drove passed them.
As we approched the wall, there were around 30 Patriot Guard, without their flags because this was not a true mission, along with some very important people in our lives that lined the sidewalk to the wall. I was stunned. My only thought was to hug every one of them, and I did just that. There wasn't a program planned, but we placed the memorial Dave made, and had Michael, our church youth director and great mentor to Curtis, say a prayer. After we made a few comments of graditude, a couple of our guests presented us gifts. I guess it was a program after all. We then made our way to the VFW to raise a toast to Curtis, all the fallen, all who are still fighting, the Vets and their families.
The visit to Hamm Lake was just as moving and uplifting. How far we have come in a year. A date that we regretted had turned out to be mostly possitive and good. Curtis had his hand in this I'm sure, he brought so many wonderful people into our lives.
The gathering at the wall was going to be just a few people who we felt have been there for us over the last year. As the week passed, a few more were invited. We gathered at our house to caravan to the wall. As we approched the downtown fire station, I could see the fire engine out with it's lights on. I didn't know this was for us. As we turned the corner, we were overwhelmed by the sight, the VFW color guard, the hook and ladder truck with the flag on top of the ladder, the police cars lined up with the drivers respectfully saluting, and the many citizens waving flags lined up for the next two blocks to our next turn. Dave recalls almost tipping the bike over he was so shocked by the sight. I could only wave and mouth "Thank you" as I drove passed them.
As we approched the wall, there were around 30 Patriot Guard, without their flags because this was not a true mission, along with some very important people in our lives that lined the sidewalk to the wall. I was stunned. My only thought was to hug every one of them, and I did just that. There wasn't a program planned, but we placed the memorial Dave made, and had Michael, our church youth director and great mentor to Curtis, say a prayer. After we made a few comments of graditude, a couple of our guests presented us gifts. I guess it was a program after all. We then made our way to the VFW to raise a toast to Curtis, all the fallen, all who are still fighting, the Vets and their families.
The visit to Hamm Lake was just as moving and uplifting. How far we have come in a year. A date that we regretted had turned out to be mostly possitive and good. Curtis had his hand in this I'm sure, he brought so many wonderful people into our lives.
Friday, April 1, 2011
April 2, 2010
It's a date that will forever be etched in my brain. The day that changed the course of my life permanently. As the date approached, Dave and I would comment on how a year could feel like a day.
After work on this day a year ago I did some chores around the house, then Dave and I met Emily for an appetizer before she started work. She wanted to talk about school. She had been struggling with her choice of major, and was contemplating taking off a semester to live with Curits and Katie for a few months in Hawaii. What a great adventure for her, and today she had made her final decision to do it, pending Curtis' approval. We also talked about our family trip to Hawaii once Curtis returned home, we had booked the plane tickets only the night before.
After leaving Emily, we stopped for a couple of movies, ready for a quiet evening at home. A few minutes after getting home, Dave stepped out on the deck to call our dog back in, we were in the middle of a conversation, and when he stopped talking abruptly, I looked to see what was wrong. There he stood with his hand reaching out in a look of questioning. My first thought is that someone he hadn't seen in a long time had unexpectedly stopped by. That is when I saw the heads of two Marines walk in front the the deck. I knew instantly that this couldn't be good. I don't recall the words they used to inform us of our sons death, I didn't need words to know he was gone. I sat on the bench inside the door for a long time with my head in my hands, willing them to go away, wanting them to be wrong. I was in shock, tears didn't even come.
I couldn't tell you how much time had passed, but my first true thought was of Emily. We needed to inform her before anyone else. I needed to get to her RIGHT NOW! After calming me down and getting the information, we got into that infamous black suburban with three Marines, the two informants and the driver, to tell Emily the devastating news. As her manager walked with her up to the front entrance, I could see Emily smiling and joking with her, my only thought was that I was going to give her news that is going to take that sparkle from her.
Back home we made phone calls to family members, and discovered that the Marine that was in Indiana to inform Katie was having difficulty locating her. Emily called to ask her to go home. Katie instantly became alarmed by such a request, we were told not to tell her, but she was far from her fathers house and in a panic, asking us if Curtis was OK. I couldn't take it anymore, and after confirming she wasn't alone, and wasn't driving, I was the one to inform her of Curtis' death. This was not protocol, but it was the right thing to do. Thankfully, she was home for the Easter holiday and was with family and friends.
One more task before the Marines left for the evening, was to get some basic information from us because we were to head to Dover to witness the dignified transfer, to receive our son home from Afghanistan. How strange to be informed of this news, and then to leave family and friends, our support, to travel.
It amazes me how fast news travels, within hours our house was full of people. There were stories of Curtis, some I had never heard, lots of tears, yet plenty of laughter, he was a funny kid.
So begins the story of this new life.
After work on this day a year ago I did some chores around the house, then Dave and I met Emily for an appetizer before she started work. She wanted to talk about school. She had been struggling with her choice of major, and was contemplating taking off a semester to live with Curits and Katie for a few months in Hawaii. What a great adventure for her, and today she had made her final decision to do it, pending Curtis' approval. We also talked about our family trip to Hawaii once Curtis returned home, we had booked the plane tickets only the night before.
After leaving Emily, we stopped for a couple of movies, ready for a quiet evening at home. A few minutes after getting home, Dave stepped out on the deck to call our dog back in, we were in the middle of a conversation, and when he stopped talking abruptly, I looked to see what was wrong. There he stood with his hand reaching out in a look of questioning. My first thought is that someone he hadn't seen in a long time had unexpectedly stopped by. That is when I saw the heads of two Marines walk in front the the deck. I knew instantly that this couldn't be good. I don't recall the words they used to inform us of our sons death, I didn't need words to know he was gone. I sat on the bench inside the door for a long time with my head in my hands, willing them to go away, wanting them to be wrong. I was in shock, tears didn't even come.
I couldn't tell you how much time had passed, but my first true thought was of Emily. We needed to inform her before anyone else. I needed to get to her RIGHT NOW! After calming me down and getting the information, we got into that infamous black suburban with three Marines, the two informants and the driver, to tell Emily the devastating news. As her manager walked with her up to the front entrance, I could see Emily smiling and joking with her, my only thought was that I was going to give her news that is going to take that sparkle from her.
Back home we made phone calls to family members, and discovered that the Marine that was in Indiana to inform Katie was having difficulty locating her. Emily called to ask her to go home. Katie instantly became alarmed by such a request, we were told not to tell her, but she was far from her fathers house and in a panic, asking us if Curtis was OK. I couldn't take it anymore, and after confirming she wasn't alone, and wasn't driving, I was the one to inform her of Curtis' death. This was not protocol, but it was the right thing to do. Thankfully, she was home for the Easter holiday and was with family and friends.
One more task before the Marines left for the evening, was to get some basic information from us because we were to head to Dover to witness the dignified transfer, to receive our son home from Afghanistan. How strange to be informed of this news, and then to leave family and friends, our support, to travel.
It amazes me how fast news travels, within hours our house was full of people. There were stories of Curtis, some I had never heard, lots of tears, yet plenty of laughter, he was a funny kid.
So begins the story of this new life.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Happy Birthday
Last week I celebrated a birthday. I marked this date the same way I have for 27 years, quietly and alone, even without the birthday boy. As a teenager I had given this child up for adoption. The father of the child had walked away from the situation, and at a time when my family was still mourning the death of my sister, I was ill equipped to take care of him.
I knew from that point I would be honest to any future children about this child, but I needed to wait for the subject to arise. It did one day when Curtis was in elementary school. He asked me if I ever had to go to court for anything. I told him I had to go to give up my parental rights. His only reaction was a disappointed "Oh, is that it?", as if the story wasn't juicy enough. Over the years he periodically had questions for me, making me believe he held this child close to his heart too. He even helped me, inadvertently, spill the beans to Emily.
I know that some people think of this as a selfish act, but I did this for him. I wanted more for him than I was able to offer at the time. I think of it as one of the most selfless acts, I loved him enough to give him more. It was one of the most difficult things in my life, only overshadowed by the death of Curtis. I have thought of this child often over the years, but not as much as in the last year. I have never regretted the decision, but I wonder why after giving up one, I have to suffer the loss of another? I have thought often in the last year why some, seemingly, go through life unscathed, while others suffer so much? I'm not only talking about my own situation, I know many people who have had one thing after another. There is no answer to this question, but it is something I think of.
I hope to someday meet my child. It has always been my belief that I will leave it up to him to make the choice to meet me. That thought was briefly changed after Curits' death, I desperately wanted that connection, but it wouldn't be fair to him, and there was no replacing my loss. The thought of him out there, happy and healthy still gives me hope. Happy Birthday son.
I knew from that point I would be honest to any future children about this child, but I needed to wait for the subject to arise. It did one day when Curtis was in elementary school. He asked me if I ever had to go to court for anything. I told him I had to go to give up my parental rights. His only reaction was a disappointed "Oh, is that it?", as if the story wasn't juicy enough. Over the years he periodically had questions for me, making me believe he held this child close to his heart too. He even helped me, inadvertently, spill the beans to Emily.
I know that some people think of this as a selfish act, but I did this for him. I wanted more for him than I was able to offer at the time. I think of it as one of the most selfless acts, I loved him enough to give him more. It was one of the most difficult things in my life, only overshadowed by the death of Curtis. I have thought of this child often over the years, but not as much as in the last year. I have never regretted the decision, but I wonder why after giving up one, I have to suffer the loss of another? I have thought often in the last year why some, seemingly, go through life unscathed, while others suffer so much? I'm not only talking about my own situation, I know many people who have had one thing after another. There is no answer to this question, but it is something I think of.
I hope to someday meet my child. It has always been my belief that I will leave it up to him to make the choice to meet me. That thought was briefly changed after Curits' death, I desperately wanted that connection, but it wouldn't be fair to him, and there was no replacing my loss. The thought of him out there, happy and healthy still gives me hope. Happy Birthday son.
Friday, March 18, 2011
An Ordinary Friday?
On an ordinary Friday about a year ago I went to work. While checking my days schedule, I noticed a name of someone I had never seen before. Another girl in the office knew her and told me that her teenage son had drown a few years earlier. I was stunned, how do you get through something like that?
During the appointment I was having trouble making conversation. I didn't know her, and should not have known about her history, besides I was dealing with my own demons. Ever since Curtis had deployed to Iraq in 2008, it was a subject that could creep into my mind as a possibility more times than I could count, but I would always stop myself and say "NO, he is fine, he is coming home to me safe!" Now I was faced, one on one, with someone who knew this pain. I couldn't find a way to broach the subject. The idea of what I would do if I lost Curtis stopped me from saying anything to her. I felt awful after she left, but not as bad as I felt only a few hours later when I found out that when I was seeing that patient, Curtis had already been dead for three hours.
Was she sent to me for a reason and I squandered it? Not that she could have said anything to ease the pain of losing a child, or given any advice at that moment that would have made any sense to me, but I could have listened to her and let her talk about her son. How could I have her in my chair for 50 minutes and not mention it, or say how sorry I was? It's strange how this one hour almost a year ago still troubles me when only a few hours after this happened my life took such a drastic change. I still know nothing about this woman other than she lost her son so tragically, but she made an impact on my life that she will probably never know. I have come to hate the saying "Everything happens for a reason", but in this case I believe it is true.
During the appointment I was having trouble making conversation. I didn't know her, and should not have known about her history, besides I was dealing with my own demons. Ever since Curtis had deployed to Iraq in 2008, it was a subject that could creep into my mind as a possibility more times than I could count, but I would always stop myself and say "NO, he is fine, he is coming home to me safe!" Now I was faced, one on one, with someone who knew this pain. I couldn't find a way to broach the subject. The idea of what I would do if I lost Curtis stopped me from saying anything to her. I felt awful after she left, but not as bad as I felt only a few hours later when I found out that when I was seeing that patient, Curtis had already been dead for three hours.
Was she sent to me for a reason and I squandered it? Not that she could have said anything to ease the pain of losing a child, or given any advice at that moment that would have made any sense to me, but I could have listened to her and let her talk about her son. How could I have her in my chair for 50 minutes and not mention it, or say how sorry I was? It's strange how this one hour almost a year ago still troubles me when only a few hours after this happened my life took such a drastic change. I still know nothing about this woman other than she lost her son so tragically, but she made an impact on my life that she will probably never know. I have come to hate the saying "Everything happens for a reason", but in this case I believe it is true.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Strength & Courage
I have heard many times over the past year people saying how strong I am. I honestly don't feel very strong, I am only enduring what has been dealt to me. When people say to me, "I wouldn't be able to do it", it makes me angry. Of course they would, just like me, they have no other choice! I know that it is meant as a compliment, but it makes it sound as if they care for their children more than I do. I try not to hold on to this anger for any length, it gets me nowhere, and again, I know people are just trying to help.
I found this poem recently, and I think it is closer to what others are trying to say.
It takes strength to be certain,
It takes courage to have doubts.
It takes strength to fit in,
It takes courage to stand out.
It takes strength to share a friend's pain,
It takes courage to feel your own pain.
It takes strength to hide your own pain,
It takes courage to show it and deal with it.
It takes strength to stand guard,
It takes courage to let down your guard.
It takes strength to conquer,
It takes courage to surrender.
It takes strength to endure abuse,
It takes courage to stop it.
It takes strength to stand alone,
It takes courage to lean on another.
It takes strength to love,
It takes courage to be loved.
It takes strength to survive,
It takes courage to live.
Sylvia Kelly
I can see now that I have strength and courage, it just needed to be presented to me in a way I could understand.
I found this poem recently, and I think it is closer to what others are trying to say.
It takes strength to be certain,
It takes courage to have doubts.
It takes strength to fit in,
It takes courage to stand out.
It takes strength to share a friend's pain,
It takes courage to feel your own pain.
It takes strength to hide your own pain,
It takes courage to show it and deal with it.
It takes strength to stand guard,
It takes courage to let down your guard.
It takes strength to conquer,
It takes courage to surrender.
It takes strength to endure abuse,
It takes courage to stop it.
It takes strength to stand alone,
It takes courage to lean on another.
It takes strength to love,
It takes courage to be loved.
It takes strength to survive,
It takes courage to live.
Sylvia Kelly
I can see now that I have strength and courage, it just needed to be presented to me in a way I could understand.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Vacation
Dave and I are leaving for Cancun on Friday. Although I am happy to go, I get a feeling that others around me are more excited for me.
It has been a strange lead up to this trip. Usually Dave and I would research every aspect of our vacation, feeling that half our trip is in the planning. Looking at flights, places to stay and what there is to do to "keep us busy". This time we went to a travel planner that I know and told her what we wanted in a resort, and didn't care where we ended up. We don't have one single thing planned for the entire week we are gone.
I guess it's that I feel a sense of guilt over this. I know it sounds illogical, but I can't escape the feeling. How can I go somewhere so wonderful and enjoy myself when Curtis will never experience such things? Don't get me wrong, Curtis did alot of living in his short 20 years, we made sure of that, and we are so glad we did, but it is what I think of every time I do something. Maybe this is why we chose a very different vacation than the usual ski trip we have taken over the last several years. Will this be something I do for the rest of my life? Will the feeling lessen?
When we get into the sun and warmth, I know I will relax and enjoy myself. Maybe I don't need to frantically run from one thing to the next to get everything out of my trip. This is a true lesson I have learned over the last year, to stop and enjoy what it is I have, not what I don't, even though it isn't easy sometimes.
It has been a strange lead up to this trip. Usually Dave and I would research every aspect of our vacation, feeling that half our trip is in the planning. Looking at flights, places to stay and what there is to do to "keep us busy". This time we went to a travel planner that I know and told her what we wanted in a resort, and didn't care where we ended up. We don't have one single thing planned for the entire week we are gone.
I guess it's that I feel a sense of guilt over this. I know it sounds illogical, but I can't escape the feeling. How can I go somewhere so wonderful and enjoy myself when Curtis will never experience such things? Don't get me wrong, Curtis did alot of living in his short 20 years, we made sure of that, and we are so glad we did, but it is what I think of every time I do something. Maybe this is why we chose a very different vacation than the usual ski trip we have taken over the last several years. Will this be something I do for the rest of my life? Will the feeling lessen?
When we get into the sun and warmth, I know I will relax and enjoy myself. Maybe I don't need to frantically run from one thing to the next to get everything out of my trip. This is a true lesson I have learned over the last year, to stop and enjoy what it is I have, not what I don't, even though it isn't easy sometimes.
Friday, February 25, 2011
In Living Color
A patient recently told me that six months after her mother died she felt as if a fog had suddenly lifted. I have experienced something similar, but I describe it in different ways.
In the first few months I felt as if I had blinders on. I couldn't look around me, I only saw what was right in front of me. Driving with me was an experience, at one point Emily got out of the car and confiscated the keys from me. I only laughed when people asked when I was going to get my own motorcycle, I sure didn't need to be in charge of a bike in this condition. I think I first realized the blinders had been removed sometime in November when I was driving on a familiar road. I drove past an area that once had been wooded, and for the first time noticed that it was cleared. This obviously did not happen overnight, but I was seeing it for the first time.
Another way I have been describing this fog is that I was seeing things in shades of gray. Nothing had any brilliance. The world looked flat and one dimensional, just the way I felt. We were invited to many veteran and patriotic events over the summer so I know that the flag alone should have lent plenty of color, but I didn't see it. I can't tell you when I first saw glimpses of color again, I think it came back gradually. I only recently walked outside and thought, "What a beautiful day." I saw the blue sky and the sparkle off the snow.
I know there will be hard times ahead of me yet, but I'm happy to say that I am getting back to the land of the living and seeing it in full color.
In the first few months I felt as if I had blinders on. I couldn't look around me, I only saw what was right in front of me. Driving with me was an experience, at one point Emily got out of the car and confiscated the keys from me. I only laughed when people asked when I was going to get my own motorcycle, I sure didn't need to be in charge of a bike in this condition. I think I first realized the blinders had been removed sometime in November when I was driving on a familiar road. I drove past an area that once had been wooded, and for the first time noticed that it was cleared. This obviously did not happen overnight, but I was seeing it for the first time.
Another way I have been describing this fog is that I was seeing things in shades of gray. Nothing had any brilliance. The world looked flat and one dimensional, just the way I felt. We were invited to many veteran and patriotic events over the summer so I know that the flag alone should have lent plenty of color, but I didn't see it. I can't tell you when I first saw glimpses of color again, I think it came back gradually. I only recently walked outside and thought, "What a beautiful day." I saw the blue sky and the sparkle off the snow.
I know there will be hard times ahead of me yet, but I'm happy to say that I am getting back to the land of the living and seeing it in full color.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Year of Firsts
I have been trying to figure out why I've been having a terrible couple of weeks. There is no special dates that fall in late January or February, I'm not feeling that the winter has drug on too long and Dave and I have been keeping busy working on the golf benefit. Why then am I in such a panic? It came to me the other day when yet another person talked about getting past all the "Firsts"
That comment scares me. Is something magical going to happen when I finally get passed the first year? Am I suppose to stop thinking of him or feeling blue? Or are others going to be less tolerant of my talking about him or my moods just because I made it though all the firsts? At a seminar for survivors last fall I heard numerous times that many people feel the second year is worse than the first!
I couldn't figure out why the statement bothers me so much until the other day when it occurred to me that I haven't been viewing things in "Firsts', I have been reliving the "Lasts". The last time I spent a holiday with him, the last time we took him to the airport, the last time I hugged him, the last time I talked to him, and worst of all, this time last year he was still alive. I think that is what frightens me, in a few short weeks that will all be gone, no more last year. I look at the date each day and wonder where could a year have gone?
You may think that the lasts are harder to deal with, but I don't think so. The date of the last time I talked to him is coming up. It was a Sunday morning, as usual, he'd ask if he woke us up, and I would lie and tell him no. While he was deployed we would each get on a phone because you never knew how long you would have to chat, ten or fifteen minutes is normal. That commercial of the family all racing to the phone to talk to their son and brother is brutal to watch, it is too close to reality. Anyway, that morning he didn't want to get off the phone, he just wanted to hear our voices. We talked for two hours!! This is a happy memory, it was a gift.
I'm not saying that the "Firsts" haven't been difficult, I just have chosen to focus on the "Lasts". I don't think I would have changed anything about them, I don't really have any regrets. I always ended our conversations with "I love you". Maybe that is why they are easier, good memories are better than thinking about a future without my son.
That comment scares me. Is something magical going to happen when I finally get passed the first year? Am I suppose to stop thinking of him or feeling blue? Or are others going to be less tolerant of my talking about him or my moods just because I made it though all the firsts? At a seminar for survivors last fall I heard numerous times that many people feel the second year is worse than the first!
I couldn't figure out why the statement bothers me so much until the other day when it occurred to me that I haven't been viewing things in "Firsts', I have been reliving the "Lasts". The last time I spent a holiday with him, the last time we took him to the airport, the last time I hugged him, the last time I talked to him, and worst of all, this time last year he was still alive. I think that is what frightens me, in a few short weeks that will all be gone, no more last year. I look at the date each day and wonder where could a year have gone?
You may think that the lasts are harder to deal with, but I don't think so. The date of the last time I talked to him is coming up. It was a Sunday morning, as usual, he'd ask if he woke us up, and I would lie and tell him no. While he was deployed we would each get on a phone because you never knew how long you would have to chat, ten or fifteen minutes is normal. That commercial of the family all racing to the phone to talk to their son and brother is brutal to watch, it is too close to reality. Anyway, that morning he didn't want to get off the phone, he just wanted to hear our voices. We talked for two hours!! This is a happy memory, it was a gift.
I'm not saying that the "Firsts" haven't been difficult, I just have chosen to focus on the "Lasts". I don't think I would have changed anything about them, I don't really have any regrets. I always ended our conversations with "I love you". Maybe that is why they are easier, good memories are better than thinking about a future without my son.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Yoga
Taking care of myself after Curtis' death was not a priority, or something I just didn't think to do. I needed something for myself, so I joined a yoga studio.
Something I learned shortly after starting, besides my apparent lack of strength, is that I had been holding my breath, definitely since Curtis' death, but more probably since he had left for boot camp. When asked to take in a full breath, I would stop after only a few seconds, my lungs were full. Another thing I notice is that my practice will follow my moods. At times I'm solid and in balance, and there are days that I'm unable to concentrate and fall out of posses. But overall, I've come a long way since the beginning, and I feel it has helped me tremendously.
I've been desperate to feel Curtis near me. I have mentioned that I do not dream of him, but I do not feel his presence either. This bothers me so much that it hurts. I have had a particularly tough week with mini panic attacks and a feeling that I am forgetting something, but for the life of me I cannot remember what it is. During my yoga class the other day, I was all over the place. By the end of class I had changed my mantra to "Come to me Curtis" I know it sounds desperate, it sure sounds like it to me!
That afternoon, while home for lunch, I spotted a bald eagle floating lazily above me. It was a bitter cold day, and we were nowhere near open water. Thank you Curtis, I know you are with me.
Something I learned shortly after starting, besides my apparent lack of strength, is that I had been holding my breath, definitely since Curtis' death, but more probably since he had left for boot camp. When asked to take in a full breath, I would stop after only a few seconds, my lungs were full. Another thing I notice is that my practice will follow my moods. At times I'm solid and in balance, and there are days that I'm unable to concentrate and fall out of posses. But overall, I've come a long way since the beginning, and I feel it has helped me tremendously.
I've been desperate to feel Curtis near me. I have mentioned that I do not dream of him, but I do not feel his presence either. This bothers me so much that it hurts. I have had a particularly tough week with mini panic attacks and a feeling that I am forgetting something, but for the life of me I cannot remember what it is. During my yoga class the other day, I was all over the place. By the end of class I had changed my mantra to "Come to me Curtis" I know it sounds desperate, it sure sounds like it to me!
That afternoon, while home for lunch, I spotted a bald eagle floating lazily above me. It was a bitter cold day, and we were nowhere near open water. Thank you Curtis, I know you are with me.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Address Book
My address book has changed drastically since last April. I've been told this can happen, but it has taken me by surprise how different it looks. There has been some long time friends and family members that we have not heard from, but for the most part the numbers have gone up substantially.
I think Dave describes it best when he talks about this new path we have been placed on, and you are either on this path with us, or occasionally merge on to it, or you are not. We can't be angry or hurt that some choose not to, we just don't have the time nor the energy to be.
Some joined us immediately when they showed up to the wake and funeral, we may not have known them then, but have had an opportunity to get to know many of them since. One in particular we met last week at a Patriot Guard get together, she has been walking this path with us silently and unseen. Janell is a mother of an Army soldier about the same age as Curtis. After hearing about Curtis' death she knew she needed to do something, so she quietly attended his funeral. After seeing the dignity of the Patriot Guard she soon joined them. It makes me feel good that Curtis had such an impact on people he never knew. Her story of her first mission while relearning to maneuver a bike is hilarious! Every member of the Patriot Guard has a story and a big heart, I am so glad I get to hang out with them, and grateful to call them my friends.
Gold Star families are another group that has filled my book. It is a group none of us ever wanted to be part of, but it is where we ended up. For us this path is not a walk, it is a march, but so many are enduring it with grace and dignity. The support, advice and tears I share with them have gotten me further than I could have alone. Jamie is a wonderful young lady we have met that lost her brother a few years ago. She moved here from Florida shortly after his death, but talked to very few people about it. She wrote on Curtis' memorial wall and she and Dave started a rapport. She has since visited us several times and opened up about her experience. I believe this has helped her to deal with her brothers death better, and we have gained another friend.
There are so many more I feel blessed to have met, so many caring people that I would have never known. My book may be full, but I can always find more space for people like this.
I think Dave describes it best when he talks about this new path we have been placed on, and you are either on this path with us, or occasionally merge on to it, or you are not. We can't be angry or hurt that some choose not to, we just don't have the time nor the energy to be.
Some joined us immediately when they showed up to the wake and funeral, we may not have known them then, but have had an opportunity to get to know many of them since. One in particular we met last week at a Patriot Guard get together, she has been walking this path with us silently and unseen. Janell is a mother of an Army soldier about the same age as Curtis. After hearing about Curtis' death she knew she needed to do something, so she quietly attended his funeral. After seeing the dignity of the Patriot Guard she soon joined them. It makes me feel good that Curtis had such an impact on people he never knew. Her story of her first mission while relearning to maneuver a bike is hilarious! Every member of the Patriot Guard has a story and a big heart, I am so glad I get to hang out with them, and grateful to call them my friends.
Gold Star families are another group that has filled my book. It is a group none of us ever wanted to be part of, but it is where we ended up. For us this path is not a walk, it is a march, but so many are enduring it with grace and dignity. The support, advice and tears I share with them have gotten me further than I could have alone. Jamie is a wonderful young lady we have met that lost her brother a few years ago. She moved here from Florida shortly after his death, but talked to very few people about it. She wrote on Curtis' memorial wall and she and Dave started a rapport. She has since visited us several times and opened up about her experience. I believe this has helped her to deal with her brothers death better, and we have gained another friend.
There are so many more I feel blessed to have met, so many caring people that I would have never known. My book may be full, but I can always find more space for people like this.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Steamboat
In Curtis' senior year we took our last family vacation. Skiing had been a fun family sport for us for many years, so we decided to go to Steamboat for a week with another family.
We were so excited to go our first day out that we couldn't wait for our friends to drop their youngest off at daycare, so along with their oldest daughter, Madison, we started our trek up the mountain. After taking a couple of pictures of the kids at the top we made our first run of the morning. It was a sunny and pleasant day. The second run down, we stopped at the fork of two runs to chat, the one we had just gone down, and a different one. Dave pointed to the new trail and said "Let's go!" I hesitated for a second, my mind told me to take the first trail another time to get our legs, but I followed anyway. Part way down we hit a cloud bank, and the visibility went to near zero. Curtis was slightly in front of me about 15 feet to my right. Suddenly I saw him go down hard. I knew instantly that he would need help, so I stopped as quick as I could, which made me fall over as well. No sooner than that, Madison zipped past me. After the cloud of snow settled around Curtis, I realized that he wasn't there. I couldn't figure out what had happened. Had he slid down the hill?
What Curtis had seen at the last minute was a cat walk that spanned the run. There was a 2-3 foot drop with only a small sign to mark it, but it was missed by us in the low visibility. Curtis avoided in by making a spectacular fall, and saved me from it as well. Madison had hit it at full speed and was launched about 20 feet down the mountain. I didn't see Curtis initially, but when I looked over the lip, I saw him running toward Madison as fast as he could. I had always knew Curtis was a caring and sensitive kid, but that act was the first time I saw it in action. He had smashed his face into the ground in the fall, and it was full of blood, it looked as if he had broken his nose. It wasn't broken, but Madison's arm was. Thankfully the Steamboat emergency room is proficient at such things, within 4 hours, surgery included to pin her arm, Madison was back at the condo watching movies. We had a great week of skiing, laughs, friends and family, one I will never forget.
Each year Dave and I look forward to skiing, even after the kids have moved on. This year we have not gone once. Yes, we have been busy, or the weather hasn't cooperated, but the passion isn't there. We are even taking a warm weather vacation instead of a ski trip. We know that we will go again, maybe just not this year.
I should have followed my gut that day, in a way I felt responsible, just as Dave did because he made the choice to go down that run. But in the end, things happen beyond our control. We could beat ourselves up by telling ourselves we should have done things different, should have made a different decision, we didn't. We need to come to peace about what has happened and make better choices in the future, maybe follow that gut feeling. But we can't be afraid of living because it has risks.
We were so excited to go our first day out that we couldn't wait for our friends to drop their youngest off at daycare, so along with their oldest daughter, Madison, we started our trek up the mountain. After taking a couple of pictures of the kids at the top we made our first run of the morning. It was a sunny and pleasant day. The second run down, we stopped at the fork of two runs to chat, the one we had just gone down, and a different one. Dave pointed to the new trail and said "Let's go!" I hesitated for a second, my mind told me to take the first trail another time to get our legs, but I followed anyway. Part way down we hit a cloud bank, and the visibility went to near zero. Curtis was slightly in front of me about 15 feet to my right. Suddenly I saw him go down hard. I knew instantly that he would need help, so I stopped as quick as I could, which made me fall over as well. No sooner than that, Madison zipped past me. After the cloud of snow settled around Curtis, I realized that he wasn't there. I couldn't figure out what had happened. Had he slid down the hill?
What Curtis had seen at the last minute was a cat walk that spanned the run. There was a 2-3 foot drop with only a small sign to mark it, but it was missed by us in the low visibility. Curtis avoided in by making a spectacular fall, and saved me from it as well. Madison had hit it at full speed and was launched about 20 feet down the mountain. I didn't see Curtis initially, but when I looked over the lip, I saw him running toward Madison as fast as he could. I had always knew Curtis was a caring and sensitive kid, but that act was the first time I saw it in action. He had smashed his face into the ground in the fall, and it was full of blood, it looked as if he had broken his nose. It wasn't broken, but Madison's arm was. Thankfully the Steamboat emergency room is proficient at such things, within 4 hours, surgery included to pin her arm, Madison was back at the condo watching movies. We had a great week of skiing, laughs, friends and family, one I will never forget.
Each year Dave and I look forward to skiing, even after the kids have moved on. This year we have not gone once. Yes, we have been busy, or the weather hasn't cooperated, but the passion isn't there. We are even taking a warm weather vacation instead of a ski trip. We know that we will go again, maybe just not this year.
I should have followed my gut that day, in a way I felt responsible, just as Dave did because he made the choice to go down that run. But in the end, things happen beyond our control. We could beat ourselves up by telling ourselves we should have done things different, should have made a different decision, we didn't. We need to come to peace about what has happened and make better choices in the future, maybe follow that gut feeling. But we can't be afraid of living because it has risks.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Is It Chemistry?
I've been told that an event like this can change your body chemistry, sometimes for a short time, sometimes permanently. I see many changes in myself since last April. Some are slowly reverting back to my old self and some are not.
The first is my sleep patterns. Initially after Curtis' death I couldn't sleep for any length at all. I was up all hours of the night wondering around the house, checking the facebook sight that Emily had set up. I think this lasted about a month. After that there was a drastic change that I can't explain. I went into some sort of hibernation state. I would sleep 12 hours a night without waking, and any time I would sit down during the day, I would fall asleep. I have had many bouts of insomnia during my life, napping is not something I am too fond of because of it, so this was a huge change for me. On the other hand, Dave, usually a quick and deep sleeper, has had trouble sleeping though the night. This is something he is still struggling with, while I am slowly going back to a normal pattern.
Eating is another change. Of course at first eating was not something that came easily. Even if I found anything remotely appetizing, it got caught in my throat. I think I lived on fruit and water for the first couple of weeks. Although it's gotten better, I have to actually remind myself to eat, I don't really feel hunger. If someone puts food in front of me, I will eat it and think, "Wow, I was hungry", but I won't realize it until I'm eating. Is it that I don't care to eat, or that it's been a chore to actually make the meals to eat? Dave and I used to love to find new recipes and cook, now I'm lucky to have two dinners planned in a row, and they are pretty basic at that. I hope to never eat another frozen pizza again once I get through this!
One of the most profound changes has been my love of chocolate. It is almost non existent now! Chocolate cravings used to be a daily occurrence for me. I would even hide it from my family, just in case. Now, I can take it or leave it. If it is sitting out, I may take a piece, but more often than not I won't. I have some in my closet now that I received for Christmas that goes unopened, and I even threw some away that was still around from Easter. I guess it's not a bad thing that I eat less chocolate, but I find it strange.
Of course there are other changes I see in myself. It makes me wonder if it is an actual chemistry change or just part of depression that comes from grief? I get up every day, my house is clean, I go to work and socialize. I find my humor is still intact, but the joy and passion for things is dull. If my body had sustained the injuries that my emotions did, I would have ended up in the ICU, I've been upgraded, but I still need time to recover. These chemicals are getting the best of me yet!
The first is my sleep patterns. Initially after Curtis' death I couldn't sleep for any length at all. I was up all hours of the night wondering around the house, checking the facebook sight that Emily had set up. I think this lasted about a month. After that there was a drastic change that I can't explain. I went into some sort of hibernation state. I would sleep 12 hours a night without waking, and any time I would sit down during the day, I would fall asleep. I have had many bouts of insomnia during my life, napping is not something I am too fond of because of it, so this was a huge change for me. On the other hand, Dave, usually a quick and deep sleeper, has had trouble sleeping though the night. This is something he is still struggling with, while I am slowly going back to a normal pattern.
Eating is another change. Of course at first eating was not something that came easily. Even if I found anything remotely appetizing, it got caught in my throat. I think I lived on fruit and water for the first couple of weeks. Although it's gotten better, I have to actually remind myself to eat, I don't really feel hunger. If someone puts food in front of me, I will eat it and think, "Wow, I was hungry", but I won't realize it until I'm eating. Is it that I don't care to eat, or that it's been a chore to actually make the meals to eat? Dave and I used to love to find new recipes and cook, now I'm lucky to have two dinners planned in a row, and they are pretty basic at that. I hope to never eat another frozen pizza again once I get through this!
One of the most profound changes has been my love of chocolate. It is almost non existent now! Chocolate cravings used to be a daily occurrence for me. I would even hide it from my family, just in case. Now, I can take it or leave it. If it is sitting out, I may take a piece, but more often than not I won't. I have some in my closet now that I received for Christmas that goes unopened, and I even threw some away that was still around from Easter. I guess it's not a bad thing that I eat less chocolate, but I find it strange.
Of course there are other changes I see in myself. It makes me wonder if it is an actual chemistry change or just part of depression that comes from grief? I get up every day, my house is clean, I go to work and socialize. I find my humor is still intact, but the joy and passion for things is dull. If my body had sustained the injuries that my emotions did, I would have ended up in the ICU, I've been upgraded, but I still need time to recover. These chemicals are getting the best of me yet!
Friday, January 14, 2011
"I've Been Better"
Awhile back Dave was complaining that when people would ask him how he's been, the standard answer of "Fine" seemed inadequate. I suggested he use "I've been better" instead. It's more honest, besides, how many people really listen to the answer of that common greeting? So when Ron, another Gold Star Father, called one evening, Dave tested it out for the first time. Ron is a psychologist, and Dave said as soon as he said it, he regretted the words. After about an hour of reassuring him that he was mearly trying out a new response, and there was nothing in particular that was bothering him that day, I think Ron got the idea. I got a good laugh out of that.
So when I received a phone call after work the other day from Dave, which is a fairly rare occurrence, and asked him how he was, when he responded "I've been better", the alarms in my head went off. If any of you know Dave well, his relationship with the emergency room over his lifetime is extensive! Just north of Rochester, on his way home from work, he rolled his car. Thankfully he and his passenger were not injured, but the car wasn't so lucky.
The impact of this event didn't really hit me until I got Dave home. I didn't sleep well, thinking of what could have been frightened me. I had not had an anxiety attack in a few months, but had one the next morning during my yoga class, and it was a chore to get through the day at work. I know too well how quickly one event can change your life so drastically. Today I feel better, I bounce back from these setbacks much quicker than I could just a few months ago.
I still think the "I've been better" come back is good, if the person who is asking is listening and cares, it will open a conversation that "Fine" couldn't.
So when I received a phone call after work the other day from Dave, which is a fairly rare occurrence, and asked him how he was, when he responded "I've been better", the alarms in my head went off. If any of you know Dave well, his relationship with the emergency room over his lifetime is extensive! Just north of Rochester, on his way home from work, he rolled his car. Thankfully he and his passenger were not injured, but the car wasn't so lucky.
The impact of this event didn't really hit me until I got Dave home. I didn't sleep well, thinking of what could have been frightened me. I had not had an anxiety attack in a few months, but had one the next morning during my yoga class, and it was a chore to get through the day at work. I know too well how quickly one event can change your life so drastically. Today I feel better, I bounce back from these setbacks much quicker than I could just a few months ago.
I still think the "I've been better" come back is good, if the person who is asking is listening and cares, it will open a conversation that "Fine" couldn't.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Caroll's Flag
A year ago this month my Uncle Caroll joined his wife Marcy in heaven. Caroll and Marcy had a long and loving marriage. They were never blessed with children of their own because Marcy had MS, but they treated their nieces and nephews as if they were their own.
Caroll was 94 years old and had served in WWII on the USS Irwin. He was proud of his time in the Navy and talked of it often. When I visited him in his last days, he was unresponsive so I talked to him. As I talked about Curtis being in Afghanistan, his breathing became rapid and labored. I assured him that Curtis was fine, and he soon returned to a normal rhythm. Did he know something that I didn't at the time? I went away feeling a bit uneasy.
At the grave site, my cousin asked me to sit next to my Uncle Al. I thought this was an unusual request, but said I would. I never expected what was to come. After the flag was folded, the soldier turned and presented the flag to me. At that moment, I only saw Curtis. He had been to Iraq and now been in Afghanistan since November, was this what it was like to receive his flag? It was a terrible thought, but it was the only thing on my mind at the moment. It was an honor to receive Caroll's flag, and the cousins and Uncle that decided that I should receive it gave it because of my service and that of Curtis', but it broke my heart. At the luncheon that followed, my brother joked that I had a rather morbid collection at home, I had also received my fathers flag, and at the time we were holding my father in laws flag after my mother in laws recent move. I responded back that it had better be the last I receive! Those words come back to haunt me often. The weeks that followed were awful, I thought of Curtis and that flag often, and walked around in a daze, unable to concentrate.
After Curtis died, I thought Katie would receive the flag so I didn't need to worry about it. When I discovered there were two flags presented, I lost it! My case officer was confused until Dave told my story. He told me that I didn't need to receive it, I could have it given to someone else if it was too painful. The only person I thought of was Emily. She had lost her only sibling, and she deserved this honor, and the thought of her and Katie receiving this gift at the same time seemed fitting.
Caroll was 94 years old and had served in WWII on the USS Irwin. He was proud of his time in the Navy and talked of it often. When I visited him in his last days, he was unresponsive so I talked to him. As I talked about Curtis being in Afghanistan, his breathing became rapid and labored. I assured him that Curtis was fine, and he soon returned to a normal rhythm. Did he know something that I didn't at the time? I went away feeling a bit uneasy.
At the grave site, my cousin asked me to sit next to my Uncle Al. I thought this was an unusual request, but said I would. I never expected what was to come. After the flag was folded, the soldier turned and presented the flag to me. At that moment, I only saw Curtis. He had been to Iraq and now been in Afghanistan since November, was this what it was like to receive his flag? It was a terrible thought, but it was the only thing on my mind at the moment. It was an honor to receive Caroll's flag, and the cousins and Uncle that decided that I should receive it gave it because of my service and that of Curtis', but it broke my heart. At the luncheon that followed, my brother joked that I had a rather morbid collection at home, I had also received my fathers flag, and at the time we were holding my father in laws flag after my mother in laws recent move. I responded back that it had better be the last I receive! Those words come back to haunt me often. The weeks that followed were awful, I thought of Curtis and that flag often, and walked around in a daze, unable to concentrate.
After Curtis died, I thought Katie would receive the flag so I didn't need to worry about it. When I discovered there were two flags presented, I lost it! My case officer was confused until Dave told my story. He told me that I didn't need to receive it, I could have it given to someone else if it was too painful. The only person I thought of was Emily. She had lost her only sibling, and she deserved this honor, and the thought of her and Katie receiving this gift at the same time seemed fitting.
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