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.
Monday, November 21, 2011
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.
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