We had a birthday in our family last week, Emily turned 21. As much as I have looked forward to this, I had been dreading it, but not for the reasons you may think. Curtis was killed 5 weeks shy of his 21st birthday. As the date approached, I couldn't help but think about the milestone he never reached.
It makes me think of a family from my hometown that I used to babysit for. They were a very faithful family and had five children. John was my brothers age, and during their 5th grade year, he died suddenly of a brain aneurysm. Their next child, Jeff, was mowing the ditch near their home a few years later, also during his 5th grade year, rolled the tractor, killing him as well. I cannot imagine how they got through the death of another child. As their next child approached 5th grade, I am told she started having troubles, panic attacks, wondering if she too would suffer the same fate. Jill made it though that year, but sadly, in her senior year she and 2 other young girls went off the road in broad day light, striking a tree, killing them all. My heart breaks for this family, it always has.
I guess I write this story because I have felt like Jill over the past several weeks, and to some extent the past two years. Could this happen again? I worry about Emily constantly. I know it is a parents job to worry about their children, but I sometimes feel it is excessive, much more than before. I talked recently to another mother who lost her son, and she has felt the same way about her surviving daughter, almost to the point of compromising their relationship.
I try not to let on to Emily how I worry. I want her to be happy, nothing is more important to me. Finding a happy medium between worry and letting go may always be difficult for me. I have to remember to treasure the times we have together, and not let those thoughts take over.
Happy Birthday Emily, I am so proud of the woman you have become.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Sunday, January 8, 2012
First Flag Line
Saturday January 7th Dave and I stood our first official Patriot Guard flag line. Officer Shawn Schneider of Lake City, Minnesota had responded to a domestic call on December 19th. He was escorting a 17 year old girl from the premises, when he was shot in the head from behind. While he struggled to survive for 11 days in a Rochester hospital, we attended a candle light vigil for him. After hearing of his death, we knew we needed to attend his funeral to pay our respects.
Dave and I both knew that we would know when the right time would come to stand our first flag line, it is strange that we both felt it at the same time. I wonder if it was because it was not a military funeral, that we would feel as if we were somewhat of outsiders in it? Over 2000 law enforcement from around the region attended, there to pay their respects to a fallen brother, much as the military feel about each other.
The day was very mild in terms of Minnesota in January, around 30 and sunny. We met across the highway from the church for the briefing, long before any mourners could arrive, as to be in our line as they arrived. Walking single file, silent and dignified to our places, I began to think of what the PGR that stood the flag line for Curtis felt like. I never knew Shawn, but I respected what he stood for. As my hands and feet got cold, I did what I could to warm them, but stood my ground. I wanted the lines and lines of officers passing me to know I would be there to support all of them. I watched many of the passengers in the cars passing by mouth their thanks, or open jawed in awe, just as I did when I experienced the PGR for the first time. I knew what they were feeling first hand.
Our ride captain, the same ride captain for us, asked if I would like to pay my respects. I took time to think about it, but decided I wanted to. With so many people, it was impossible to talk to the family personaly, but I collected my blue rose and walked the line past the casket. I held the rose along with my flag with pride.
After the funeral began, our flag line walked back the same way we came, in silence, single file. It was time to set the flag line at the grave site. Dave and I had collectively decided that we would not join them there, feeling baby steps into this process was best. We felt the grave site would be too difficult. Before departure, we were talking with another member who had been at Curtis' funeral. During the day he had stood directly across from me. He was amazed to see us there and mentioned how he didn't know how we could do this. I answered him with the one thing that kept coming to my mind all day, "I'm here to repay a debt."
Thank you Officer Schneider, you and your family's sacrifice will not be forgotten.
Dave and I both knew that we would know when the right time would come to stand our first flag line, it is strange that we both felt it at the same time. I wonder if it was because it was not a military funeral, that we would feel as if we were somewhat of outsiders in it? Over 2000 law enforcement from around the region attended, there to pay their respects to a fallen brother, much as the military feel about each other.
The day was very mild in terms of Minnesota in January, around 30 and sunny. We met across the highway from the church for the briefing, long before any mourners could arrive, as to be in our line as they arrived. Walking single file, silent and dignified to our places, I began to think of what the PGR that stood the flag line for Curtis felt like. I never knew Shawn, but I respected what he stood for. As my hands and feet got cold, I did what I could to warm them, but stood my ground. I wanted the lines and lines of officers passing me to know I would be there to support all of them. I watched many of the passengers in the cars passing by mouth their thanks, or open jawed in awe, just as I did when I experienced the PGR for the first time. I knew what they were feeling first hand.
Our ride captain, the same ride captain for us, asked if I would like to pay my respects. I took time to think about it, but decided I wanted to. With so many people, it was impossible to talk to the family personaly, but I collected my blue rose and walked the line past the casket. I held the rose along with my flag with pride.
After the funeral began, our flag line walked back the same way we came, in silence, single file. It was time to set the flag line at the grave site. Dave and I had collectively decided that we would not join them there, feeling baby steps into this process was best. We felt the grave site would be too difficult. Before departure, we were talking with another member who had been at Curtis' funeral. During the day he had stood directly across from me. He was amazed to see us there and mentioned how he didn't know how we could do this. I answered him with the one thing that kept coming to my mind all day, "I'm here to repay a debt."
Thank you Officer Schneider, you and your family's sacrifice will not be forgotten.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Nightmares
Did you ever wish you could unread something? I recently read a book about a small boy in a serious accident who, while in a coma, visited Heaven. He spoke of his time with God and what Heaven was like. It isn't his account of Heaven, or God that has troubled me, but the account of the holes that lead to Hell that have bothered me. I've talked before that I do not dream of Curtis, but shortly after reading this book, the nighmares started.
I liken peoples stories of their dreams they share of their loved ones the same way some share a birth experience or root canal. You only hear about the wonderful dreams, just as you only hear about the horrible experiences of child birth or a terrible root canal. When in reality, many dreams are scary, as some child birth and root canals are uneventful. I have struggled whether to share these nightmares, but they have weighed so heavy on my mind, I knew I had to.
The first, I was home alone and a man pulled his car into my driveway. I approached the door, and was instantly frightened, even though he posed no immediate threat. When I asked the 30 something, 250 pound man what he wanted, he replied, "Don't you know me? I'm your son." I ran at him with rage, pounding him with my fists. The thing that struck me was he was dressed all in red. I woke heart pounding and out of breath.
The second is a reoccuring dream. The only thing I can ever recall is a young man standing to my side yelling in my ear, "I never loved you!" over and over. It doesn't really look like Curtis, but in my dream, I believe it to be him. Again, I wake suddenly, heart racing and breathing hard.
Of course I don't believe this to be true, but what do these dreams mean? Sometimes I think it is the work of the devil, trying to break my spirit. I work hard everyday to be at peace with what has happened. I believe he is in a better place, but just like when he was deployed and the "what ifs" crept into my mind, the wondering finds it's way in as well, these nightmares are no help.
The book I read was ment to be inspirational, but it left me feeling upset and with more questions. I wish I could go back and unread it. But, like with many things, I need to pick up the pieces and carry on and figure out a new way around this new challenge.
I liken peoples stories of their dreams they share of their loved ones the same way some share a birth experience or root canal. You only hear about the wonderful dreams, just as you only hear about the horrible experiences of child birth or a terrible root canal. When in reality, many dreams are scary, as some child birth and root canals are uneventful. I have struggled whether to share these nightmares, but they have weighed so heavy on my mind, I knew I had to.
The first, I was home alone and a man pulled his car into my driveway. I approached the door, and was instantly frightened, even though he posed no immediate threat. When I asked the 30 something, 250 pound man what he wanted, he replied, "Don't you know me? I'm your son." I ran at him with rage, pounding him with my fists. The thing that struck me was he was dressed all in red. I woke heart pounding and out of breath.
The second is a reoccuring dream. The only thing I can ever recall is a young man standing to my side yelling in my ear, "I never loved you!" over and over. It doesn't really look like Curtis, but in my dream, I believe it to be him. Again, I wake suddenly, heart racing and breathing hard.
Of course I don't believe this to be true, but what do these dreams mean? Sometimes I think it is the work of the devil, trying to break my spirit. I work hard everyday to be at peace with what has happened. I believe he is in a better place, but just like when he was deployed and the "what ifs" crept into my mind, the wondering finds it's way in as well, these nightmares are no help.
The book I read was ment to be inspirational, but it left me feeling upset and with more questions. I wish I could go back and unread it. But, like with many things, I need to pick up the pieces and carry on and figure out a new way around this new challenge.
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