Father’s Day

Sunday is Father’s Day.

My boy has never had a Father’s Day with his daddy.

For the first one, The Hubs was deployed. Since our boy was only 6 months old then, I didn’t do much for him. But I tried my best to make it special for The Hubs. It killed me that he wasn’t able to be there for his first Father’s Day, the first celebration of what he’d wanted so greatly, his son. I sent him a special package that had many of his favorite goodies, a card that I might have maybe helped Little Man scribble on ;), a very heartfelt letter from me, and several gifts. Among these were a custom carved wooden frame with his favorite photograph of him and Little Man, as well as a customized set of dog tags that had that same picture on one tag. I wanted him to have reminders at all times, whether in his makeshift ‘room’ or out on mission, of the little boy he desired so greatly, loved so deeply, and was waiting for him at home. He loved it all and set the photo up immediately in his room and wore the tags every moment unless he couldn’t for safety’s sake.

‘The’ Photo…

Neither of us ever expected that I would receive those first Father’s Day gifts back in a somber black box, and that he would never experience a single Father’s Day with his son.

Fast forward nearly 4 years. The kiddo was in the backseat today as we drove across town, heading home from running errands to get him changed into his uniform for taekwondo class. I reminded him that this Saturday is the ‘Daddy and Me’ taekwondo class in honor of Father’s Day.

[Backstory: They had a similar class for Mother's Day (which I attended) and in these classes, the kids teach their parents how to do their skills. The kiddos then award their parent with a special honorary belt at the end. When they announced the Father's Day class a few weeks ago, Grandpa (The Hubs' dad) was there. He comes once a week to watch Little Man in class, so the instructors know him. We all encouraged him to do the class with Little Man, as this is the first event like this that Little Man has been old enough to really understand and notice, and considering The Hubs own childhood practice of taekwondo, it would be meaningful for both Little Man and Grandpa...]

In the span of five minutes, I learned that every ounce of effort I’ve been putting into keeping The Hubs’ memory and presence alive for Little Man is starting to pay off… In the moment, as I was listening to the words he said, I was thinking ‘I wish I could record this and listen again forever and tell the world…’ but I guess it was one of those moments that is meant to be cherished alone.

But as I heard my child explain to me how he was ‘excited for his class, and happy to have Grandpa come, and Grandpa was coming because Daddy couldn’t come because he was in Heaven and not walking around like us, but even thought that was really sad and he really wished he could see him and teach him how to kick, it was okay because Daddy could see him from Heaven and God was there, and Grandpa was Daddy’s dad and could teach him instead, and after we were done in class maybe we could take the awesome camo belt he was going to award to Grandpa and tie it onto a whole big bunch of balloons and float it up to Daddy in Heaven with a note on it that says I LOVE YOU and then Daddy would know that he was okay and Grandpa was teaching him things since Daddy couldn’t…’

Listening to my child says these things in the same tone of voice that he talks about Superman and goldfish crackers and needing to go to the potty, hearing it so matter-of-fact from him, you would think would make me cry. I mean, it’s heartbreaking that my child has to understand loss and life and death and such adult topics so meaningfully when he is only 4. And maybe any other day it would have made me tear up. But today, it made me smile. It made me think. It made me proud. Proud not only of this little boy who is so incredibly wise, so smart, so inspirational to his Mommy…but proud of myself, proud of The Hubs’ family, my family, all of our friends and EOD ‘uncles’…proud of the village that has rallied around this child and raised him up in the image and love of his father.

This Father’s Day, although I will be wishing The Hubs could play with his kiddo like I always will, I’ll be thinking more about how proud he would be of this little man his Little Man is becoming. Because even though he isn’t here in person to raise this precious being he dreamed of, he will ALWAYS be a part of his life. He is still impacting his life, in the words of Little Man: all the way from “Heaven and the mystery planet and all the way up past the moon….”

<3

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Premonition.

Something that a fellow widow posted in our online group tonight brought up a lot of emotions, and I think it is finally time to purge it all out. This is a painful and difficult thing to admit to, but I feel like it is finally time for me release it. [warning, this is long, and if you are close family maybe tread carefully.]

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Erika - June 10, 2013 - 9:28 pm

I’ve been trying to think of what to say and can’t really find the words I need to say it. But two things-
1, No matter what feelings, thoughts, premonitions, etc. you had, it’s not your fault. I know you know that, but I just have to say it.
2, I have never read a blog post that affected me more, and I’m sure I’ve read thousands. It kept me up late. It led to a long conversation with my husband. Because I haven’t had those exact thoughts of course, but I’ve felt things that way so many times (and so has he) about other situations. I completely believe in what you’re saying.

Angi - June 9, 2013 - 11:49 pm

My husband passed away last year on Father’s Day. I had woken up from a nightmare and found him in our living room. It was as if I walked into hell. I can still hear my our voice in my head and yet I remained calm as I called the emergency number. My soul focus was that our children not see him. That goal was what kept me together until help could arrive. My story is similar to yours in a way that a lot of different things up until then pointed to me being a widow young. He had mental issues and was drinking a lot. All he wanted to do was retired and he didn’t have long to go, but maybe he just couldn’t wait any longer. The police said that it was an accident but in my heart of hearts I believe he just gave up. I still feel guilt, much of it produced by his family who question “HOW THIS COULD HAPPEN?” and “HE LOVED YOU AND YOUR CHILDREN!” but we were thousands of miles away in another country and they truly did not know what all of us were going threw and how he had changed. Thank you for sharing your story and giving us a place to share ours.

Shana - June 9, 2013 - 3:28 pm

I love you!

Holly - June 9, 2013 - 1:07 pm

Thanks for sharing. As hard as it must have been to let out those personal things, I truly hope it has been a healing release.

Christina Hamski - June 9, 2013 - 12:00 pm

I don’t know when Joe knew it, but we know he did because of his last request of his mother. But I had felt “off” about his last deployment since the moment he told me he was going. I bawled liked like a baby during the cab ride to the airport after being with him for the last time in Norfolk. Don’t blame yourself for not telling him. I wouldn’t have told Joe if I had felt as you did. I didn’t want anything I told him to “mess” with his head or cause him to lose focus. You know as much as I do that EOD takes pride in being “fearless”. I believe it’s better that they lived their last day as normal as possible, knowing that they are loved, needed to get this mission done and make it home. My only wish was that if Joe was to die, that he wouldn’t be conscious of it. When I would remind him during our phone conversations that he needs to come home to me, he would reply, “Of course honey, I would never want to disappoint you. I love you too much.” I knew that if he even had a moment to understand he was dying, he wouldn’t of thought about his death – he would have thought of how much he was going to disappoint me. I understand your feeling of guilt. Why am “I” alive? What did he do so wrong in life to deserve not being there to live our dreams? The best I can do now is live my life the best I can. Always honor his memory and live the s#!t out of my life and make it worth it. I told a fellow widow once that, “Becoming a widow made me hate life so much that I want to teach it a lesson!” It’s hard to stay motivated but that’s exactly what I intend to do. It’s an honor to know you, Erin.

Iris - June 9, 2013 - 11:03 am

Erin,
I read this about four times, just because there was so much in there that made me think of a lot of intuitions I’ve had whenever mine has been deployed in the past and was in a worrisome situation. One particular one was a really tough deployment (I found out later on) and I could go back to many little flags thrown my way. I think it’s a mix of intuition and knowing the frequency in which you’d hear from them and things like that. Amongst these guys, if you’re a sensitive enough person to tap into that, you can tell when they worry about their own peers, too.
I know that shaky feeling very well. The first year we lived here in Florida I worked at a courthouse while he was gone for the second time. These super properly dressed military men (like nothing I’ve ever seen) came walking straight towards me when I was on my break (I didn’t know back then that they wouldn’t come to your place of work so there’s that for irrational fears), and I swear I was ready to pass out. Only for them to walk right by me..
I think for us spouses it’s somewhat normal to think about the ‘what if’s’ frequently. I know I do every time. When it first started I told myself that I shouldn’t think that way.. but now I think it’s a very important exercise your mind is doing there. The possibility always exists. I am obsessed with knowing what he wants me to do if it happens and I, involuntarily I must admit, go through these scenarios in my head. What would I say to his family, how would it feel and down to all kinds of very specific details. And even though the thoughts pain me, I feel better prepared somehow if that makes any sense. I believe (even though I haven’t been in your shoes), that there’s nothing you should feel guilt about. Your mind, your heart, or something was preparing you for a big task. I find intuition and the ability of your mind to go to difficult places a very healthy and necessary response of your mind and body to adjust to living in sort of a ‘always on call’ state. Which, really, is what us families who remain back home live in all the time.

Erin, thanks for sharing this whole thing. You don’t know how much of a difference you make. Not only to your fellow widows, but all of us who fear what you have gone through. Your picture pops into my head when I read the word Bold every time. :)

Stephanie - June 9, 2013 - 10:25 am

Bryan never, ever deserved what happened to him. And there is nothing in the world he ever did to cause it. But the same is true for you and Mom Berky. It breaks my heart to know so much time is spent wondering what you did or could have done to stop it. And the truth is, there was nothing. Neither of you ever deserved this happening to you either.

EOD and their families are full of superstitions. I could tell you a few that have haunted ours for years now. But in the end, it is really the guilt that eats survivors alive … mostly the guilt in the belief you had some level of control over the outcome. A lot of us become consumed with the idea that there’s something we can do to prevent this from happening again. That somehow if we do enough, say enough, be enough … we’ll survive this kind of fate. And when it happens, we’ll feel punished for every mistake we ever made. Because if we were good enough people, it wouldn’t have happened. But the truth is harder to accept. We have no control. It wasn’t up to us. And we can literally kill ourselves slowly with the obsession over trying to change an outcome we never had control over in the first place. Or worse, a situation that has yet to be.

Over the years, Kev has said many things that have haunted me. More so after he sets foot into a war zone. I can drive myself literally insane with the memories of the things I think may be telling of my fate. I have spent much too much time preparing for an outcome I have no control over. It is absolutely normal to be sort of slapped in the face here and there with the thoughts of what you will do when it happens to you. To think about the kids, the families, the people who will all be affected. To think about what you’re roll will be and how you will want to handle it. It’s very common, but nobody wants to really talk about it. It’s hard enough to think and feel it. I’m so sorry that was happening to you and you kept it to yourself. But believe me, if thoughts had that much power, I’d be a widow too. And I’m not. Please don’t blame yourself for the things you think you put out there that had some influence on this. If that were the case, there would be a lot more names on the wall.

What you put out there, and continue to do, is love and support. Bryan felt the love you had for him, as do we now. Seeing your son grow … in every picture I see the love. Every memorial walk or run, there is love. That’s what you’ve always put out there. That’s what you had control over. And that’s still the one thing left standing. So be in the love Erin and Sonya. I want that for you so much.

As you say, releasing that guilt will set you free. I hope you guys continue to find more peace.

Kay Shaughnessy - June 9, 2013 - 9:42 am

Not to discount your intuition, (I’m a huge believer in it myself), but I don’t know why you wouldn’t have thoughts of all the what ifs. Maybe I’m odd, but I’ve gone through a few unpleasant scenarios when my husband has been driving home late from a business trip and that doesn’t even begin to come close to the danger Bryan was in every single day he was deployed. Who wouldn’t be anxious and battle thinking of the worst?

That said, let’s assume for a moment that your thoughts really were a premonition of sorts and you knew. Does that make you responsible? Absolutely not. There’s nothing you could have said or done to have prevented it.

I can’t even begin to imagine what you and other spouses and loved ones go through, but I am certain that your writing, the amazing gift you have of putting words to the emotions and experiences, helps others who are on this journey. You’re in my prayers as you continue to heal.

Mom Berky - June 9, 2013 - 1:39 am

Erin Im glad you finally got that out. What Bryan said has haunted me since you told me. I have wondered what I did for this to have happened to my family. What wrongs have I done to have to live with Bryan being taken away from us. For Jeremy to lose his only brother, for you and litte man to lose the best husband and daddy. I will ask this until the day I die. I know Bryan never did anything to deserve what happened to him. I miss Bug everyday and my heart has a hole that will never heal.
I think everyone that loves Bryan has questions. I hope and pray everyone can find some little bit of peace knowing Bryan was a very happy man. He loved life and enjoyed every moment he had. Always know we are all here for.

Whoa.

Tonight is the first night in over two months that I’ve felt like writing. Somewhere along the way, I lost my mojo. I don’t really feel the need to write about loss and grief anymore with the exception of rare moments, but I don’t really feel like writing happy inspirational stuff all the time either. I don’t feel witty enough to post up funny stuff, my daily life is too boring for general recaps, and I’m not talented enough to share regular tutorials. Okay, maybe I’m being critical of myself. But in general I’ve just felt unmotivated to write for a long time now. That’s rather jarring, since writing is such a part of me. If I don’t do it publicly, I at least write in a private journal daily…but not lately. Perhaps I’m a bit burnt out. More likely I’m just a little lost. I’m spending a bit too much time at this crossroads of life, but instead of contemplating each path and boldly choosing one to venture down, I’ve plopped down on my ass and smiled at the people passing by following their paths, hiding behind the encouragement I give them as an excuse to not get up, brush the dust off, and just pick a freaking direction already.

Anyway, my midlife crisis aside, I felt at least the tiniest pull to the keyboard tonight so I jumped on it. And if I’ve not lost all of my dear readers with my extended absence *crickets…* I’d love some feedback. Will you give me your thoughts below? It’s anonymous, and will perhaps give this girl a much needed kick in the arse. <3

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daniel mandeville - June 2, 2013 - 1:32 am

Just you writing is all I look forward to even if it’s about girly stuff I don’t know about.

Call to Action

If you’ve picked up on the hints I’ve dropped in past blog posts, you probably know I’ve had something very exciting brewing in the background for a few months now. I’m so anxious for the day when I can announce it in full, but for now I’d like to put out a call for action:

  • if you are a military widow whose spouse was either killed in action in Afghanistan or as a result of service in Afghanistan such as injury, illness, or mental illness
  • if you are interested in being connected with Afghan women who are widows of members of the Afghan National Army who fought alongside our troops
  • if you want to become an essential part of a one-of-a-kind organization that strives to unite widows in America and Afghanistan on the common threads of hope, peace, and empowerment for the future

then please email me at strandsofhopeproject@gmail.com for more information about getting involved in the starting stages of a unique project that is among the first of it’s kind. Or if you are a reader who knows of a woman who fits these parameters, I would love if you put her in touch with me. Please feel free to share this blog post on your own blog, on Facebook or other social media sites, and help me spread the word.

Change starts with one small Strand of Hope.

Thank you so much! <3

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