My Fallen Soldier: In Memory of PFC Shane Reifert

Shane

2012-02-12T10:02:00.000-05:00

I often think about the Shane that I know and love and the Army Shane. I know there is an entire part of Shane that I only got a glimpse. The reason I only got a glimpse is because that is the way Shane wanted it; he wanted to keep me from worrying, he wanted to keep me from truly knowing the sacrifices that were made, he wanted to keep me from the truth.

Recently, Colin Shearing, one of Shane’s brothers-in-arms sent me a few photographs that he had taken of Shane. I asked Colin about the photograph and he responded, “It was taken in the beginning of our deployment. It was one of our first actually big missions; it was called Operation Strong Eagle One. The photo was specifically taken on a rooftop in Daredam. It was taken on day three of what turned out to be a five-day mission.” Colin gave me permission to post this photograph.

This photograph stopped me in my tracks because this is such a rare capture of the duality of Shane. Here is Shane in that godforsaken country. Here is Shane in his uniform, dirty and without a shower for at least three days. Here is Shane with that gait that is frozen in time.

I could easily close my eyes and put a cleanly showered Shane in his favorite Black Keys t-shirt, old jeans, and Converse shoes with that exact same gait. Those of us who knew and loved Shane could do the exact same thing. This is Shane!

They say, “a picture is worth a thousand words,” but to me – this picture is a gift that cannot be measured in words.

As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

Candy Wrappers

2012-02-05T11:38:00.000-05:00

Candy wrappers, silly subject, but they won’t leave my mind.

When we were at Fort Campbell for our visit in the fall, we received some of Shane’s belongings.

When Shane was killed in Afghanistan, his belongings were packed up and shipped stateside. Shane’s uniforms were laundered and neatly folded. Shane’s books and letters were neatly packed. Shane’s electronics were safely packed. I was so grateful to touch his iPod because we had gone shopping for a new one. I remember having to sign one of the many documents verifying the return of the items.

I was saddened because nothing smelled like Shane. The only glimpse of Shane was the ruffling of the edges on the letters or sand that had fallen into the pages of books.

Candy wrappers…

The very last letter we received from Shane when he was at Fort Benning for OSUT (One Station Unit Training) was postmarked November 09, 2009. The letter is eleven pages in length, written over one week’s span. The letter begins with, “Well, Holy shit is all I can say….” I can close my eyes and hear the excitement in Shane’s voice. The letter is filled with Shane’s advanced individual training for the Infantry. The letter is written with similes and metaphors – just trying to give us a glimpse of his training. Included in the letter is a, “PS – I included a candy wrapper for the candy they gave us on Halloween. Remind me to tell you the story sometime.” The wrapper has a scary monster with glowing eyes and a wiggly smile. Shane did share the story, which put smiles on our faces.

Candy wrappers…

I have previously posted about our last visit to Fort Campbell. During the visit, we met Chris Childs, who was one of Shane’s good buddies. Chris told Kurt that he had some of Shane’s belongings that were mistakenly not sent to us. Chris took great care of Shane’s belongings for the remainder of the tour. Chris gave Kurt one of Shane’s duffle bags and his rucksack.

Included in the duffle bag was Shane’s beret. Oh, we were all so grateful to receive that beret. I can close my eyes and see Shane putting on the beret during the family day weekend at Fort Benning. He was so proud to place the beret on his head, which meant he had qualified for an overnight visit with his family.

Also, in the duffle bag were a couple of Shane’s uniforms. Yes, dirty uniforms! Uniforms that did not smell like my Shane, but the Army Shane. Yet, I was so grateful that the uniforms came with sand and stains and dirt and candy wrappers!

Yes, deep in one of the pockets were a couple of candy wrappers. Kurt was so good at sending Shane and his brothers-in-arms care packages. And there they were – a Starburst wrapper, a Twizzlers wrapper, and a bubble gum wrapper. I felt I had just discovered a priceless treasure. It was a bit of home, it was a bit of trying to give comfort in a godforsaken country, it was a bit of sweetness, it was a bit of love.

Candy wrappers…

Who would have ever guessed something that is so easily discarded could bring so many fond memories?

Yes, a bit of love and so much more.

As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

"This is our cry. This is our prayer. Peace on Earth." - translated from a plaque at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial

2012-01-23T22:38:00.000-05:00

Before Shane deployed to Afghanistan, he began to cut back on his communication with our family. Phone calls became less frequent and went unanswered. Conversations were shorter. Darker. His voice tense. Always holding back and keeping conversation light. Speaking words, but not really talking.

The day before Shane got on a plane with the rest of the men of Bravo Company, he called me. I was surprised to see his name appear on my phone screen. I was standing on my futon, overlooking my giant open window, and hanging paper cranes. The sunlight was so beautiful that day. It bounced off of the windows across the street. It hit the paper cranes, many of which were made of reflective paper. There was a breeze that came in through the window that allowed me to wear a sweatshirt and not be too hot or too cold. It was the sort of weather that happens only a few times a year in Michigan.

Hey Buddy. What’s up?

Hey Bethie.

What’s going on?

Nothing. Just packing. Hey – Johnson wants to know how to . . .

There we were, having a completely normal conversation, as if nothing big was happening. The phone call consisted of attempting to explain international cell phone data plans to Shane to relay to one of his friends. It ended abruptly. Shane rushed off of the phone, saying something about an inspection. And that was it.

I sat on my windowsill, honored and hurt at the same time. So I looked at the cranes, hung with fishing wire and tape, as the moved in the breeze.

And I thought about Sadako Sasaki.

When I was in grade school, I learned about Sadako Sasaki, the girl who attempted to fold one thousand paper cranes. Japanese legend holds that anyone who folds one thousand cranes will have a wish granted by the gods. Sadako lived in Hiroshima when the atomic bomb was dropped and was hospitalized due to the effects of the bomb. She attempted to fold one thousand cranes, but died from leukemia, caused by radiation exposure, before completing her goal.

Her friends completed the task and buried the cranes with her.

As I sat cross-legged on the windowsill, I realized that I was okay with that being my last conversation with Shane before he deployed. It was normal. It wasn’t forced. There wasn’t a painful goodbye. I knew in my heart that I would talk to him again. I just didn’t know how little time I had left.

So I went back to hanging my paper cranes. I never made one thousand of them. Never came close and never even tried.

Nowadays, the paper cranes are packed away in a storage container. Saved up, I suppose, for a time that I might need the gods to grant me a wish.

Black Olives

2011-12-25T21:57:00.000-05:00

Well, this holiday season is tricky because last year I could convince myself that Shane would not have been home for the holidays. If Shane hadn’t been killed he would have still been in Afghanistan. It is a silly game the mind plays, but it was a game that helped me get through the holidays last year.

This year, I did not have that luxury of playing a game with my mind. Instead, I knew that Shane should be home – yes, home for the holidays because the tour was over. Yet, Shane was not home because the brutality of death truly wins. Shane will never ever be home again.

Instead, I (we) create a new existence without the physical presence of Shane. Those of us who knew and loved Shane have changed. The change is a necessity to process my life without my son, but every once in awhile something happens that tugs on the strings of the heart.

Traditionally, we spend Christmas Eve with Kurt’s side of the family and Christmas day with my side of the family. True to tradition, we continued with our holiday plans.

Yesterday, I received a telephone call for a simple request. “Will you bring a can of black olives on Christmas day? I forgot to grab a can at the store.” The request was from Shane’s godmother; Shane loved his Aunt Jane. Jane just happens to be married to my brother, John. Jane is more than my sister-in-law, she is my best friend.

You see, Shane really liked black olives. Beth and I like black olives, but Shane loved black olives. A year ago, I would have had at least six cans of black olives in the pantry. This year, not a single can in the house, not even in the back corner of the refrigerator. Kurt, being the brave one, ventured to the grocery store and purchased a couple of cans of black olives.

When we would have family over one can was never enough because when the kids were young, they would put black olives on their finger tips and laugh and laugh while they nibbled away on the olives. Never the green ones, only the black ones.

I know it is silly, but this simple request made me realize how many little things I have altered in my life. And then I wondered why I stopped purchasing black olives, but subconsciously I knew why.

Tonight, I put black olives on my plate. And with a smile on my face and a gaze up to the heavens, I thanked Shane for his love of black olives.

Oh, and that other can of black olives was placed in my refrigerator.

As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

Monuments and Men

2011-12-22T00:00:00.000-05:00

A couple of months ago, we traveled to Fort Campbell. It was a trip which I needed to make to help with my healing process. We drove through continuous rains as if the heavens were crying with me. My heart was so heavy, so wanting and waiting to feel whole again.

The drive to Kentucky was beautiful; the colors of fall still remained on the branches. Through the raindrops I wondered where all the other people were going on their travels. Were they going to work or a day of errands or on a trip of discovery?

We arrived at Fort Campbell in time for a ceremony for the Gold Star Families. This was not the reason for our trip, but we felt it was important to attend the ceremony. We were honored to be escorted by CPT Sean Hinrichs, who was Shane’s platoon leader. I am sure that Sean’s parents are as proud of their son as we are of Shane. And now I finally had the opportunity to meet the man who spent so many hours with my son.

The ceremony was very moving and, at the end, a family member placed a yellow rose inside the blue star. When I returned to my chair, I felt so small and was so glad to be able to hold Kurt’s hand.

Sean then took us to the site of the monuments for the fallen Soldiers of the 101^st Airborne Division (Air Assault), 327^th Infantry Regiment. This was my reason to venture to Fort Campbell; the trip gave me an opportunity to lay my hands on a monument. It is the monument that bares the names of the Soldiers who paid the ultimate sacrifice in Operation OEF XI May 2010 – May 2011. The monument is inscribed on both sides with the men who gave their lives for honor and country.

It bares Shane’s name. And then a Merlin caught my eye – it flew low and settled in a pine tree. At that moment, I felt a wave of peace come over me. It is a fleeting thing, but I am so grateful for those precious moments of peace. I began to grasp that brotherhood of honor, duty, and commitment.

Later in our visit, we got to meet Shane’s brothers-in-arms and their families. We spent lunches and dinners in conversations wrapped in love and respect. We laughed and we cried. I was able to put faces and voices to the men; the men so important to Shane. We were invited over to Doc’s house; a house filled with love.

I was now able to fully realize that I will never truly understand this brotherhood, but that is okay because it is something only the men of the 101^st Airborne Division, 1/327^th, Bravo Company – those Bushmaster Brothers can understand.

Each of the men will forever hold a special place in my heart. I am grateful to have been given this opportunity to witness the brotherhood.

As we drove home, the skies were no longer pouring rain; instead, the sun was poking through the clouds as my thoughts drifted in and out of peace.

As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

Wreaths Across America

2011-12-11T23:14:00.000-05:00

On the second Saturday of December, coordinated wreath laying ceremonies occurred at Veteran cemeteries sponsored by Wreaths Across America. I did not attend the ceremony on Saturday; instead, I went to Great Lakes National Cemetery today. I did not attend the ceremony because my time at the cemetery is filled with quiet reflection.

I am thankful for this group and the many volunteers who gave up their precious time to attend the ceremony. Personally, I know kindhearted people who attended the ceremony, people who knew and loved Shane and everything he stood for. I know the young boys who placed the wreath on Shane’s tombstone.

It was a bitter cold morning, but the sun was shining, which has a tendency to make everything a little bit better. As I turned into the drive, the first things to catch my eye were the flags. Today, all the flags were raised and waving in the wind. It is a magnificent sight – the red, the white, and the blue. It is a brutal reminder of the ultimate sacrifice that Shane freely made to help keep us safe.

I pulled over and parked near Shane’s tombstone. I can sit in the Jeep and view Shane’s final resting spot. I have my little rituals for my visits to the cemetery. Today, we listened to the new cd by the Black Keys from start to finish (no skipping songs because that is one of Shane’s rules for listening to a new album).

I always read poetry when I visit Shane’s grave and today was no exception. On some visits I know which poems I will read, but today, I let the book decide for me. I opened the book and let the page come to me. I brought John O’Donohue’s To Bless the Space Between Us. When I opened my eyes and saw the title of the poem, I closed my eyes and said – no, this must be a mistake, but I did not change my draw. Instead, I read the following poem. And even though the tears did not stop flowing for the longest time, I knew in my heart, this was the poem for the day.

“For Grief”

~ John O’Donohue

When you lose someone you love,

Your life becomes strange,

The ground beneath you gets fragile,

Your thoughts make your eyes unsure;

And some dead echo drags your voice down

Where words have no confidence.

Your heart has grown heavy with loss;

And though this loss has wounded others too,

No one knows what has been taken from you

When the silence of absence deepens.

Flickers of guilt kindle regret

For all that was left unsaid or undone.

There are days when you wake up happy;

Again inside the fullness of life,

Until the moment breaks

And you are thrown back

Onto the black tide of loss.

Days when you have your heart back,

You are able to function well

Until in the middle of work or encounter,

Suddenly with no warning,

You are ambushed by grief.

It becomes hard to trust yourself.

All you can depend on now is that

Sorrow will remain faithful to itself.

More than you, it know its way

And will find the right time

To pull and pull the rope of grief

Until that coiled hill of tears

Has reduced to its last drop.

Gradually, you will learn acquaintance

With the invisible form of your departed;

And when the work of grief is done,

The wound of loss will heal

And you will have learned

To wean your eyes

From that gap in the air

And be able to enter the hearth

In your soul where your loved one

Has awaited your return

All the time.

As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

Veterans Day

2011-11-11T05:38:00.001-05:00

Not just Veterans Day, but every day, take a moment to remember those who put their lives on the line each moment of the day. Honor those who bravely serve or have served to maintain the freedoms of this great nation.

Always and forever,

Shane's Mammy and Beth's Momma

A Father's Tribute to his Son

2011-11-07T21:21:00.000-05:00

He loved his family
He was smart
He read books
He loved music
He was quick witted with a very dry sense of humor
... He was a very deep thinker
He understood history
He did not suffer fools
He was a champion of the underdog
He was loyal
He was talented
He was handsome
He would never back down
He took shit from no one
He tried to improve himself every day
He knew the meaning of duty and honor
He was proud to wear the CIB
He was proud to be a Screaming Eagle
He was more proud to be a Bushmaster
He loved the men he served with

He was my son and I miss him so......................

How do you measure, measure a year?

2011-11-06T08:12:00.000-05:00

Sunday, November 06, 2011, has finally arrived.

The morning began with a magnificent sunrise – the sky awash with pink and orange. There is frost on the ground with the mist slowly rising; just as I arise today to discover the beauty that surrounds me. I am so very, very fortunate to be surrounded by a truly loving family and a compassionate group of friends.

Am I sad today? Of course, but I will not let that sadness consume me. Actually, yesterday was the brutal day because in my world I measure in weeks. And yesterday was 52 weeks to the day that the fatal news was delivered. It was a day, which I already knew in my heart, that when I arrived home there would be Army personnel in my driveway. It was a day I sat frozen in my Jeep. It was a day in which I had to call Kurt to come home. It was a day in which I had to call Beth to come home. It was a day and night to be in shock and disbelief making all the calls to family and friends.

Today I will take my sadness and tuck it in a back pocket. Instead, I will try and find the beauty in this world. I will look for moments of quiet tenderness and smiles.

I will cherish the memories of Shane.

I will still believe that there is still more good in the world than bad.

I will still ask why, why was such a good soul taken so young? I don’t think I will ever find the answer to that question.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred moments so dear

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure, measure a year?

~ “Seasons of Love’

I will measure this year in sadness and love

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

Happy Birthday

2011-10-27T11:01:00.000-04:00

Today is Shane’s birthday, facebook told me so. Well, silly facebook, I already knew that. Shane was born on October 27, 1987, and I knew that my life was truly whole. Kurt, Beth, and I welcomed our addition to the family with so much love.

Shane was not home for his last two birthdays. Two years ago he was at Fort Benning for OSUT (one station unit training) and last year he was in the Pech Valley in Afghanistan. Sometimes, I wonder which birthday was the most enjoyable or which birthday sucked the least.

Shane how are you spending your birthday today? I hope birthdays are celebrated up in heaven. I wonder if there are balloons and cake and ice cream.

I do know this much – you touched so many lives, and we are all better human beings to have had you in our lives.

Happy Birthday to you, my son, my Shane Michael, my Moe!!!

I have kept my promise to you as I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”

Peace-

Always and forever-

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

The Season of Fall

2011-10-09T12:30:00.000-04:00

Fall has always been my favorite season. I truly appreciate the cooler temperatures and the vast array of colors. There is something so comforting about the change in the seasons.

Fall was Shane’s favorite season. Shane was born in October, and Halloween was his favorite holiday.

Shane is seven-years-old in the photo; the tree is as tall as ever, and it is still holding onto its green leaves.

This fall is difficult; it is trickier than I ever imagined

Maybe it is the memories, maybe it is the change, or maybe, it is this thing called life

As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other”

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

September 25, 2010

2011-09-25T19:03:00.000-04:00

I am sitting here with a plastic bottle of Coke and a small bag of sourdough pretzels.

One year ago today, we took Shane to the airport to fly back to Afghanistan. I have previously posted about that drive to the airport. I have written about my special moment at the airport.

I do not have a photo from that day; instead, I have included a photo of my recent trip to the zoo. It is with pride and honor that I post this photo in Shane’s memory. Swan was Shane’s online gaming name.

Maybe that is the reason this swan was so gracious to “perform” for me. I hope so.

As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

The Detroit Zoo

2011-09-21T21:27:00.000-04:00

One year ago today, Shane and I went to the Detroit Zoo as part of our special day

I went to the Detroit Zoo this afternoon

I went by myself, but I was not alone

As always-

i carry your heart with me

i carry it in my heart

i am never without it

~e.e. cummings

As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

The Last Sunday

2011-09-18T13:34:00.000-04:00

This has been a taxing week on many levels, but the fact Shane was home just one year ago for his mid-deployment level weighs heaviest on my heart. And it is just not my heart; this weight is on each and everyone’s heart who knew and loved Shane.

This was Shane’s last Sunday at home before he returned to Afghanistan on Saturday, September 25, 2010. In my world, Sunday is still family day. It is a day to try and catch up from the demands and pressures of the world. It is a day where there still is a home cooked meal and conversation or maybe an outing.

Today is a day in which I could easily wallow in self pity or sadness or depression. I will not let the tears flow because I do not think I could contain them.

Instead, I will share happy memories of Shane. A Shane that the Army never got to have, a Shane that only very few of his brothers-in-arms knew about his passion for playing his guitars. Yes, his brothers knew about his knowledge and love of music, but not about the guitars. Shane decided once he joined the Army that the two worlds would not collide.

As I reach back in my memories, I grasp onto Shane’s senior year of high school. I have previously shared that I was blest to have had both Beth and Shane in the classroom. The one course that they each took as seniors was yearbook. And, you guessed it, I taught the course. A part of the responsibility of producing a successful yearbook is to generate revenue. Every year the yearbook staff and I would sponsor a Halloween costume contest. The students would pay a dollar to have the privilege of wearing a school appropriate costume. The yearbook staff would select the winner and he or she would receive a plastic pumpkin filled with goodies.

Shane and two of his good buddies, Tim Rosseel and Scott Shannon, decided to dress up as 80s rock stars. I don’t think anything more needs to be said – the photograph speaks volumes. I believe it was one of their best days at CMC. Tim and Scott have been humbled by their friendship with Shane.

Tim, Shane, and Scott

Another senior moment for Shane was during the talent show. I know Shane was in his glory when the female student body kept yelling his name, “Shane, Shane, Shane – we love you, Shane.” I guess a guy and his guitar equal star treatment. I had a hard time focusing my camera between my giggles of this treatment for my son. This was near the end of the school year, and for some reason, Shane was able to stay under the radar with the length of his hair.

Lastly, this is one of my favorite photographs ever taken of Shane. Terry, the owner of St Clair Studio, took Shane’s senior portraits. I remember helping lug in the change of clothes, sports equipment, amps, and guitars for the photo shoot. Of all the photos taken that day, it is this one that I cherish the most. I feel this photo captures the essence of Shane – his passion and love of music.

So, today, I might stumble, but I refuse to stand still or step backwards. Instead, I will force myself to move forward as I continue to, “put one foot in front of the other.” I do this in honor of my son, my Shane Michael, my Moe.

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

The Big Secret

2011-09-11T02:09:00.000-04:00

I am beyond tired, but my mind will not settle for the night. I have spent the good part of the day thinking about a secret. Yep, a big secret between a brother and his sister. Secrets are tricky things; they are in a world of cloaks and veils.

On September 10, 2010, I was in my classroom, last hour of the day. I remember there was a knock on the door, and I turned around to see who was coming in my room so late in the day. And then I could not believe my eyes. There was Shane with Beth standing behind him. I stopped dead in my tracks, there was Shane. Shane! Shane told me he was still stuck in Afghanistan waiting to fly out for his mid-deployment leave. Beth and Shane had devised a plan to keep Shane’s homecoming a secret from Kurt and me. Beth alone went to the airport (with her special sign) to greet Shane. They drove straight to the high school and were escorted to my classroom. Shane did not take time to shower or change his clothes, which he had been in for a couple of days, but came right to school. And there were my children – oh, my heart was so full of love!

The following Monday, Katie, one of my seventh hour kids, gave me a present. She told me not to be mad at her because she broke a school rule, but to open the present. The present was a framed photo; Katie took out her cell phone and snapped the surprise. It is from the back of the room and not the clearest photo, but it captures the bear hug I gave Shane. I love this photo!

How Beth was able to keep this secret from me – well, I have yet to figure that one out. I do not know who concocted this plan, but it was a plan with a high level of secrecy. It was shared between a brother and his sister, who had such a special bond.

I was reminded of this bond when I was watching the news, and Governor Christie delivered his speech at Liberty State Park in New Jersey. He said, “…when you think about the brother or sister who no longer has that person who they can pick up the phone and call and speak in that shorthand that only comes after spending a lifetime together. When you think about that measure of loss. All of the changes and inconveniences in our lives, pale in comparison.” Well said Governor Christie, well said.

As September 11^th has now rolled around – take time to remember the victims and their families of September 11, 2001. Take time to remember those who sacrificed their lives in Iraq and Afghanistan to help keep America safe. Take time to remember their families and friends. Take time to reflect on this great country and the freedoms that we cherish.

As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

The longer you are dead, the more I feel like I didn't really know you.

2011-09-05T01:23:00.000-04:00

"I just want to know you."

"What does that mean, know me, know me. Nobody ever knows anyone else, ever. You will never know me."

Bret Easton Ellis, The Rules of Attraction

I Never

2011-08-30T17:52:00.000-04:00

When I was younger, I would play the game “I Never” with friends. Everyone would sit in a circle with their hands in fists in front of them. One by one, each person in the circle would take a turn saying something they had never done. If someone else had done something, they had to put a finger up. The goal was to think of things that the others in the circle had done. Whoever got to 10 fingers up first was the loser.

Nowadays, I play “I Never” with myself. When Shane’s death was very recent, the big “I Nevers” were in the forefront of my mind. I Never get to see Shane again. I Never get to talk to Shane again. I Never get to celebrate a holiday with him.

As time stretches and the space between Shane’s death and the current day grows, it’s the little “I Nevers” that get me the most. These “I Nevers” creep up on me in quiet moments. Like today, while standing over the sink, wishing we had a dishwasher, I paused as I rinsed the suds off of an indigo blue bowl. It is one bowl of a set of four that reside in our cupboards, and I use one of them almost every morning.

But it wasn’t until this day, holding the bowl under steaming hot water, watching soap fall down the drain, that I thought how the bowl came to be in its current place. Shane and I had purchased the bowls, along with dinner plates and side plates and mugs and servingware. I don’t remember if they were for Mother’s Day or our mother’s birthday or maybe Christmas. But I remember going shopping with Shane, in the basement of a department store. I remember he was wearing his black Converse shoes and the light was very harsh and we looked at probably every set of dishes before coming back to a particular set of indigo blue dishes that we had examined when we first arrived in housewares. It’s a silly little memory. But it brings about a host of “I Nevers.” I will never walk through a department store with Shane. I will never make a decision with him, no matter how big or small. I will never buy another present for our parents with him. I will never walk a little ways behind him, surprised at how much of a man he had become as he walks with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched, always looking thoughtful. These are the “I Nevers” that I will probably miss the most, but which are most capable of slipping from my mind because they are tiny moments, not occasions captured with a camera lens.

All of this came to my mind as I finished washing an indigo blue bowl.

I never take much care with dishes, but today I dried the bowl more delicately than required, and placed it gently in its proper spot in the cupboard.

Breaker, Breaker

2011-08-26T01:44:00.000-04:00

Shane was so proud to earn his Infantry Blue Cord. I remember how proud Kurt was to pin the cord on Shane’s right shoulder. This memory seems like another lifetime to me; it is clouded in the belief that Shane would be fine, Shane would return home, Shane would be starting to write his novel.

In Shane’s mind, when he joined the Army there was no greater position than to be part of the Infantry. Shane was good with his weapons, actually very good. During JRTC, it was discovered that there was a need for a new radio telephone operator (RTO). Shane was selected by SFC Bolin and CPT Hinrichs because he was “very smart and strong.” To put it mildly, Shane was not a happy camper. This was not his desire, but these were his orders. In very little time, Shane had to learn many operating systems and codes before they deployed to Afghanistan.

After learning about Shane’s new position from Kurt, I decided to try and lighten up Shane’s mood. I sent him a message with the title, “Breaker, Breaker.” Shane did not find my humor entertaining. Actually, it was one of the few times that Shane was fairly angry with me. The anger did not last long, but Shane remained as the RTO until he came home in September.

Shane spent many hours alongside his Platoon Leader (CPT Sean Hinrichs). I have often wondered what, if any, conversations were had between Sean and Shane. After all, Sean was a commissioned officer, and Shane was an enlisted soldier. I know Shane was very guarded about his personal life, and I have wondered if Sean was the same. Recently, I emailed Sean about my thoughts, and he politely responded. It was as I had thought – small talk, jokes, the crappiness of a situation.

Sean shared this memory of Shane in an email dated November of 2010. “As our time in Afghanistan increased I got to know Shane quite well. He bestowed on me the greatest honor a Platoon Leader could ever receive. During our Combat Patch ceremony, a ceremony that marks the first time a newly deployed Soldier can don a Combat Patch, Shane asked me to put the patch on his right shoulder. It may seem like a simple gesture but to me it was something special and something I will never forget.”

I have yet to meet Sean, but I have met Sean’s father and uncle. Sean’s father and uncle flew in to attend Shane’s funeral. Kurt, Beth, and I were so humbled that these gentlemen rearranged their schedules and were able to represent Sean. This action speaks volumes; it measures the greatness of the brotherhood of the Bushmaster Brothers. To this day, I still try and grasp the depth of this brotherhood. I am beginning to wonder if I will ever truly understand this brotherhood, but I do know this much, from cord to patch, Shane was willing to pay the ultimate sacrifice for his brothers-in arms.

As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

The Talk and the Lecture

2011-08-19T10:16:00.000-04:00

The Talk…

It is interesting how bits and pieces of the last two years seem to float in and out of my memory; almost like clouds on a lazy afternoon. I have gone back and forth on whether to write this post. It is extremely personal, but there is such a strong message that must be shared.

Shane and his Bravo brothers were given leave time in March and April before they deployed to Afghanistan in May of 2010. In late March, Shane came home for a few days before heading to Las Vegas with some of his Bushmaster brothers.

Shane was fairly quiet this time, I wondered if it was his way of coming to grips with the fact he was soon going to be deployed. Shane did not want any large gatherings; instead he decided on small visits with family and friends. Shane did not pick up and play any of his guitars. I guess he needed to separate this civilian life from his military life.

Just Shane and I were home the afternoon of “the Talk.” Shane was at his computer and I was at mine. Our computers are perpendicular to each other – the conversation started with our backs to one another. “Mammy,” he said, “we need to have a talk.” And with that my body froze – I did not want to have this talk, I did not want to listen, I did not want the words to come out of Shane’s mouth.

“Okay, Buddy – I will listen,” and with that we turned and faced each other. The tears were already streaming down my face, and Shane told me that this needed to be taken care of. I realized that my crying would only make it harder on Shane, so I found some courage and dried my eyes. I grabbed the first piece of paper I could find – a back of an envelope.

Shane told me that we needed to have this talk, just in case he did not make it home. Shane told me that I could plan his funeral and his funeral Mass; he felt that I would know what to do.

Then he added one thing, “Mammy, there are two songs I want played sometime during my funeral. The first song is “It’s Alright” by Guns N’ Roses and the second song is “Fix You” by Coldplay.

I nodded throughout the talk and tucked the envelope in a safe spot – just out of reach, but close enough to readily grasp. We survived the talk; I believe there was a weight lifted from Shane’s shoulders.

Shane left for Las Vegas a few days later. You know the saying, “What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas,” – that is true for my knowledge of Vegas. Only Shane and his brothers know the stories behind that trip, but I think this photo speaks volumes!

The Lecture…

My lecture came in the form of an email. It was sent on Friday, April 02, 2010 at 3:57 AM.

Hey, Mammy,

I’m here in my suite still alive and not that drunk getting ready to grab a little sleep before I check out….A dealer carded me saying I had an angel face. I replied with an angel of death. A deal with the devil, I suppose…. And hopefully, I come back ok to live out my new life. But I tell ya Mammy, and I know this will make you cry, but I can’t hold it in anymore. I feel like I’m going to get killed over there…. I’m going to try my best to come home, but we shall see. I hope it’s just my nerves, time will tell. But you need to be strong and drive on, you’d disappoint me if you never got over it. I love you, Mammy. And it’s ok, because sometimes it isn’t always someone else’s son.”

And when the time came, I remembered where that envelope was, and we honored Shane’s wishes. Kurt, Beth, and I planned the funeral and funeral Mass with care and consideration for Shane. “It’s Alright” was played at the funeral home after the prayer service. “Fix You” was played during Shane’s funeral Mass by one of Beth’s dearest friends. Eric, with his soulful voice, sang while his fingers strummed Shane’s acoustic guitar.

I am ever so grateful that Shane and I had/have an open line of communication. It is important to build strong relationships with your children. Kurt and I are both blest to have wonderful relationships with Beth and Shane. It is important to be able to talk and listen to dreams and fears; hopes and aspirations; and life and death.

You were right Shane; it wasn’t someone else’s son that day in November. It was you, my son, my Shane Michael, my Moe. I will honor your wishes; I will be strong and drive on. I will not disappoint you…

As I continue to put, “one foot in front of the other.”

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

A Little Bit of Luxury Called...a Towel

2011-08-13T15:24:00.000-04:00

Well, my old nemesis is back. I am exhausted, running on empty, but my mind won’t settle. I let my mind wander down the labyrinth never knowing which twist or turn I will follow.

Tonight, my mind turns to December of 2009. Shane came home with his meager belongings from Fort Benning. Home. Shane was home for ten days before heading to Fort Campbell to become part of the legacy of the 101^st Airborne Division (Air Assault), “Bushmasters” Bravo Company, 1^st Battalion, 327^th Infantry Regiment.

Shane came home with freshly washed uniforms and linens, but I needed to rewash everything. I needed to send Shane off with uniforms that smelled like home; I know it was silly, but it was important to me.

As I was separating Shane’s articles of clothing (I have no idea why I needed to separate anything because everything was a shade of green), I couldn’t believe my eyes. I picked up a piece of cotton. At first, I thought it was a hand towel, but then I realized that it was Shane’s bath towel. And then my eyes welled up with tears; I couldn’t believe that the Army expected my Shane Michael to dry off with a ratty towel. I would have never kept this towel, it would not have passed muster, even with my rags.

I was offended, I was insulted, I was saddened that was what Shane would have to use to dry himself after a shower. Oh, but wait, back then I still assumed Shane would be in a position that he could shower.

A shower to me is an every day experience. A time to wake up, a time to contemplate, a time to tell myself that everything will be okay.

When Shane was in Afghanistan, a shower was a luxury to the Bushmaster brothers. Maybe, Shane thought that towel was a luxury. I never got a chance to ask Shane about the towel situation, but there are a lot of things I will never get a chance to ask Shane.

So, the next time you are stepping out of the shower and wrapping yourself in the luxury of an Egyptian cotton bath towel, let your mind relax. Take a moment to swaddle your mind with the knowledge that our military personnel make many sacrifices to help maintain and secure our freedom in this land that we call, “the home of the brave.”

Shane, I hope you are swaddled in luxury in the afterlife.

I will continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

Leaving on a Jet Plane

2011-08-05T09:18:00.000-04:00

“All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go”

Except there were no packed bags, only an Army backpack swung over the shoulder of my son.

Two years ago today, Shane boarded a plane that took him to Fort Benning. A plane ride that would forever alter the course of his life. A plane ride that forever altered our lives. A plane ride that turned Shane from a young man into one tall Soldier.

I am ever so proud of PFC Shane M. Reifert, my son, my Shane Michael, my Moe.

I might stumble today, but I will continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

A Package in the Mail

2011-08-05T00:40:00.000-04:00

A couple of weeks ago, we received a box from Fort Campbell - priority mail, medium flat rate box. I was not expecting anything so it caught me off guard. The contents of the box entered my mind and heart, which are already overflowing with so many unanswered whys.

Memorial Ceremony

1^st Battalion, 327^th Infantry Regiment

101^st Airborne Division (Air Assault)

FOB BLESSING

1400___________________________________09 NOV 2010

PRELUDE “Leave No Man Behind”

~Blackhawk Down

INVOCATION CHAPLAIN

COMMANDER’S COMMENTS CPT W.

REMARKS FROM A FRIEND SPC HAMPTON

MEMORIAL DEDICATION CHAPLAIN

BENEDICTION CHAPLAIN

LAST ROLL CALL 1SG R.

FIRING OF THE VOLLEYS

SOUNDING OF TAPS

POSTLUDE “Freedom Theme”

~Braveheart

*************************************************************************

Almighty God, Father of all mercies and Giver of all comforts, deal graciously with us who mourn, that casting all our cares on You, we may know the comfort of Your love and presence. Make us all aware of the brevity of life and the need to live it with a noble purpose. Keep us in this hour of need and enable us to find your strength sufficient. AMEN.

PFC Reifert was born on 27 October 1987 in Detroit, Michigan. He enlisted as an Infantryman on 05 August 2009 and attended Basic Training at Ft. Benning, Georgia. Upon completion of Infantry training, on 17 December 2009, PFC Reifert was assigned to the “Bushmasters” Bravo Company, 1^st Battalion, 327^th Infantry Regiment.

While serving with the “Bushmasters,” PFC Reifert held various duty positions to include; rifleman, radio telephone operator, and grenadier. Prior to deploying to Afghanistan, PFC Reifert participated in the Company’s pre-deployment training at JRTC.

During the deployment, PFC Reifert participated in four Air Assault Missions which included; Operation Azmary Fury I and II, Operation Strong Eagle II, and Operations Bulldog Bite II A. In addition, PFC Reifert participated in over 100 dismounted and mounted patrols while serving with Bravo Company.

PFC Reifert’s awards and decorations include: The Combat Infantryman’s Badge, Bronze Star Medal, Purple Heart, Army Commendation Medal, National Defense Service Medal, Afghanistan Campaign Medal, Global War on Terrorism Service Medal, and the NATO ISAF Medal.

The program’s back cover is Psalm 23.

Also, included in the box - the flag, certificates, photos, and items that Shane’s Bushmaster Brothers left in his honor. There are dog tags, patches, emblems, coins, and para-cord with a cross and dog tag. My fingers lingered or grasped the items, as if I could gather strength for the upcoming days.

I reached again and again for the para-cord necklace. I closed my eyes and gently placed the cord in the palm of my hand – there rested the cross and dog tag. The cross was worn; it is pitted from wear and tear. The dog tag is marked and scuffed from metals hitting each other. I knew in my heart that this cross was something very special. The dog tag and cross belong to SSG Dustin Campbell.

I emailed or messaged the men that I could give credit for the items. Unfortunately, there are items in the box that are not distinguished by a name. This is my thank you for your thoughtfulness and caring.

I sent Dustin a message thanking him for his gift from the heart. Dustin gave me permission to share his response, which tells the history of the cross.

Kitty,

You are welcome for that, it was just something for me to give after Shane giving so much to us, that cross was worn throughout Vietnam by my dad and through Iraq in my first deployment and then again through Afghanistan. Thank you for all that you have done for our platoon as we are all starting to head in different directions I think that Shane's memory will hold us all together for a lifetime.
Dustin

I told Dustin that I did not feel right keeping the cross – that this cross belongs in his family. I mentioned that I would like to keep the cross for a bit, but then return it to him. I have worn the cross a time or two; hoping for an understanding of this brotherhood of the Bushmasters.

Some people might say that the package contained fabric, paper, metal, and cord. True, it contained fabric, paper, metal, and cord – but to me, it contained so much more. It contained courage, duty, honor, strength, and this damned thing called the brotherhood of the Bushmasters.

I will forever cherish these gifts – they help me in my dark hours as I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

Determination

2011-07-25T00:44:00.000-04:00

It is late, I am tired, but my mind won’t settle for the night. Sleep has become my nemesis, and tonight, I am losing the fight.

Tonight, I am at Shane’s computer, sitting in his chair, typing on his keyboard, and listening to his top 25 most played songs on iTunes. I don’t like Shane’s keyboard, but this is his gaming computer and gaming keyboard. It seems foreign to me, even though, all the keys are in the same place as they were back in typing class in high school.

I stroke the keys and let my thoughts come to the surface, just as the mighty whales rise to breathe.

Determination is what enters my mind; Kurt and I are truly blest to have two very determined children. While Beth and Shane set different courses for their lives, it is a characteristic they both share.

Beth set her goals on education. She was determined to graduate with honors in high school, college, and law school; a goal she accomplished. Tonight, Beth is still studying, cramming her brain preparing to take the bar exam. I marvel at her fortitude and resolve to continue with her purpose in life. Beth is determined to make a difference in this world, and I am ever so proud of her.

If I close my eyes and block out the world around me, I can hear Shane’s determination. Shane was one heck of a guitar player. Shane would spend hours upon hours in his bedroom, amp on full volume, and practice until he got the sound just right. I remember Shane learning how to play “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” by Guns N’ Roses. The opening riff for the song was played again and again and again and again, until it was perfect. I remember complimenting Shane, but he shrugged off the comment and acted like it was no big deal.

Shane carried his determination with him in the Army. Shane was determined to help keep America strong and free. I do not know who to give credit for the photograph, but it captures Shane’s determination. The photo captures the look of a soldier, a soldier who is dirty and tired and determined to do his best. A soldier who is truly missed by his brothers-in-arms, who truly understand this photo. A son who is truly missed by his mother, who strives to understand this determination, but ever so grateful to say Shane is my son.

I will conquer my nemesis. I will continue to “put on foot in front of the other” as I head off to dreamland.

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

Dinosaurs Rock!

2011-07-17T23:24:00.000-04:00

As the months of summer allow me some much needed freedom of mind, I can’t help but wander back in time. I wish for moments that will never be again, but know deep down in my heart that there are many moments that sustain this broken heart.

Shane loved dinosaurs! When I say loved dinosaurs, this just might be an understatement. Shane, even at a young age, knew the names of the dinosaurs – from the allosaurus to the stegosaurus, to the velociraptor to the triceratops, to the apatosaurus to the brontosaurus, all the way up to the mighty tyrannosaurus rex.

When Beth and Shane were little, one of their favorite movies to watch was The Land Before Time. The movie tells the tale of five orphan dinosaurs, who band together while traveling the land. They form their own little family, while facing the odds of survival, and realize their strengths (individually and as a group).

Did I mention that Shane loved dinosaurs?

Beth and Shane are three years apart in age. Beth has always played the role of big sister with such responsibility and determination. Beth could even be found playing dinosaurs with Shane, even though she might have enjoyed doing something else.

I can’t recall the exact month, but Beth and Shane were young (five and two years of age). It was late in the afternoon when I realized that it was awfully quiet in the house. I went into the family room; the television was on, but no Beth and no Shane. I wandered down the hall and came upon the partially closed bathroom door. I peeked into the bathroom and couldn’t believe my eyes. There on the bathroom countertop sat the two lovely darlings. Beth was very close to Shane, but I couldn’t see what she was doing. I did notice the huge smile on Shane’s face. And then…I noticed his green arms! Yes, that’s right – Beth was transforming Shane into a dinosaur!!!

Beth had gathered up every green marker she could abscond and was having the time of her life. Shane was in his glory becoming a T-Rex! I can’t believe I didn’t grab my camera and capture that moment on film. Instead, it is one of those magnificent moments that are captured only in my heart and mind.

I believe it took a few hours of soaking in the bathtub (playing with dinosaurs) and many changes of the water before the green disappeared. The T-Rex Shane was slowing fading amongst the bubbles and washcloth. The last of the dinosaur green bath water circled the drain, just a few drops left in the tub.

I will not let Shane’s sense of honor and duty fade, nor will my memories circle the drain. Instead, I will try to do my best on any given day; as I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”

peace-

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

Screaming Eagles

2011-07-13T13:25:00.000-04:00

A couple of weeks ago I was driving on the expressway; it was one of those ghastly gray summer days. The clouds hung low like a sheet settling on a bed. I was in a contemplative mood, listening to one of my “sad” playlists. As I was driving, approaching Selfridge Air National Guard Base, “These Days,” by the Black Keys was filling my mind. Out of the rain clouds, a transport helicopter appeared, and it looked so forlorn, so mystical. And then tears streamed down my face, and I wasn’t quite sure why. Why did this helicopter upset me? I teach near the base, so it is not uncommon for me to see the various planes and helicopters in the sky.

I forced myself to confront this demon of a helicopter, and then I realized why I was so upset. I was saddened because I knew so little about Shane’s life in Afghanistan. I know he didn’t want me to worry, didn’t want me to lose sleep, didn’t want me to know about… so, he seldom discussed any of his missions. Instead, when we had the opportunity to chat on facebook we would talk about music, the weather, or how my day was going. This was the way Shane wanted it, so I respected his wishes. I always believed that when Shane came home he would write a best selling novel about his experience, and that would be the way that I would hear about his life in a god-forsaken country.

Before I finished my errands, I stopped and sent a message. Doc is one of Shane’s dearest brothers-in-arms; he also is the medic in Shane’s platoon. So, I asked Doc if Shane ever had to repel out of a helicopter. Doc, always gracious, responded that day with the following message.

Doc gave me his permission to share the story on this blog.

“Kitty I want you to know that I would be more than happy to answer any of your questions, anytime. It's funny you should ask that. I was just thinking about our first real mission. Shane and I were selected to be on D.A.R.T. (downed aircraft recovery team). There was a huge resupply going into an area that was real hot and was very low on food and other supplies. So they were sending in 9 Chinook helicopters loaded with supply. Which is quite dangerous because of how long it will take to do this, the enemy could move in and attack. Chinooks are not very quiet. There were only a total of 12 of us on the team. We were only going to get spun up if a chopper went down. Well, we got spun up.....and it was AWESOME! Shane and I sat right across from each other on the Blackhawk, doors wide open, wind blowing through the cabin, pitch black, and about 8000 ft in the air. We would swoop in and out of the valley around ridges. I remember looking over at Shane (remember we are full kit, all our gear, weapon and night vision goggles down on our faces we look like hardcore aliens) and he smiles huge and gives me a thumbs up. I knew exactly what he was thinking because I felt exactly the same. This is why were here! This is what we do! It was an adrenalin rush and feeling like no other. Shane never fast roped out of a bird. But again no one has in Afghanistan because of the terrain. He did do a lot of Air Assault missions where we rush off a bird that touches down for a few seconds. That was how we surprised the enemy. And Kitty I am not just saying this when I say he was one of the best at it.”

Doc’s response filled my heart with pride; a pride that helps mend this slowly healing heart.

Yesterday, I was again out running errands, traveling the same expressway, listening to a different playlist, more upbeat. “Hey, Soul Sister,” by Train was filling the Jeep. This time there were big fluffy pillows dancing in the azure sky. A jet from Selfridge pierced the clouds, a solo jet, demanding control of the sky. I watched with awe and amazement, as the jet angled into one of those big sweeping turns. My eyes did not fill with tears, instead they filled with wonder and deep appreciation for all the sacrifices our military make to keep us safe.

When Shane was passionate about something – he gave it his all. This is the Shane that the Army had – one hell of a soldier. A man so proud to be part of the legacy of the 101^st Airborne Division, 1/327^th, Bravo Company, a Bushmaster! A man that paid the ultimate price to help make the world a safer place. A man that I proudly call, my son, my Shane Michael, my Moe…

As Doc concluded (Doc has a real name, and it is Hector, but he will always be Doc), “Kitty, I also wanted you to know that some of us were sitting around talking, and we realized that we all had the same feeling in our gut. The company is not the same without Shane there. We miss him very much. Some of us find it hard to express ourselves, but believe me we talk about him all the time.”

I believe you, Doc! I talk to Shane and about Shane all the time. I am grateful to have a loving family and wonderful friends that share stories and fond memories of Shane. We have all been truly blest to have had Shane in our lives.

As we continue to live our lives without Shane, remember to “put one foot in front of the other,” as we strive to heal and stay strong.

Peace-

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

4th of July: Independence Day

2011-07-03T12:11:00.000-04:00

As the Fourth of July approaches my mind cannot help but wander back to when Beth and Shane were little. We always had our families over for the big holiday; we are fortunate that the Kronners and the Reiferts actually get along and genuinely like one another. Kurt would spend the day cooking on the barbeque, all the kids would swim or play on the swing set or play a game of volleyball, soccer, or wiffle ball or a wicked squirt gun fight. Then the big search for just the right stick to roast marshmallows for s’mores. The day would be filled with love and laughter, that was, until evening approached and the mosquitoes would look for their victims. I would bring out the bug spray and blankets to try and save an itch or two. And then the magic would fill the sky.

We would sit huddled together to watch the fireworks. Kurt would put on a display of sound and colors. As the fireworks lit up the sky we would ooh and ah and clap with delight. I remember watching Shane and the intensity in his eyes. Maybe he realized at a young age the true meaning of the day – the meaning beyond the picnics and fireworks...

I was blessed to have both my children as students in the classroom. I remember in American literature when we were studying the works from the writers (Patrick Henry, Thomas Jefferson, and Thomas Paine) of the revolution. Shane’s enthusiasm was apparent – when he was interested in a topic, he truly was interested! I always have quotes on my chalkboard or dry erase board. During this time of study, I placed on the board one of Thomas Paine’s most famous quotes from The Crisis, “These are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman.” And years later, Shane posts part of that same quote on facebook. Only this time – he is with the 101^st Airborne Division, 1/327^th, a Bushmaster.

I went to the cemetery a couple of days ago and read The Crisis, but this time the meaning was much deeper and the sorrow was much greater.

Recently, I met for drinks with some of Shane’s friends. Allie, Mary, and Shane were true friends. Mary, one of my former students, was kind enough to share part of a facebook message that Shane had sent her. It reads, “I'm very proud to be where I am in life right now. This is by far the hardest thing I've ever done, probably will ever do but none of that matters. I've learned how to survive with nothing, the true meanings of tired and hungry, new tolerances for pain and how to ignore the kind that doesn't get a chance to go away, that I can work under stress with a smile, that I'll do anything for my brothers, but most importantly, I've learned what kind of man I am; and that reason alone makes it all worth it. I know that if I don't come home from Afghanistan, that I'm sure as shit going out standing giving ‘em hell. I know my enemy will breath a well earned sigh of relief should that day come. I have really become someone else when I put my uniform on every day. I walk taller and harder, I speak louder and deeper, I smile less if you believe that, and don a look of seriousness and determination. It’s a lot of responsibility to represent those who have worn that uniform before me, and I won't let them down. Men like me have given us 235 years of freedom, and for that I know the hardships are paid for in full. When I go out in the real world and see some kids or teenagers living care free in the moment, that’s when I know it’s worth it.”

So, as we celebrate this Fourth of July, remember to be truly thankful for sacrifices that our members of the military make for our opportunities of freedom. When I will look to the sky this Independence Day, I will search for that special star. The one that has that special twinkle – the one that guides me in my quest to be strong.

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

Thanks for Nothing, Tax Dollars OR How Not to Honor the Dead

2011-05-28T08:04:00.000-04:00

This past Thursday, my immediate family and I attended the State of Michigan's 17th Annual Memorial Day Service, held in Lansing and at the Governor's residence. I didn't really know what to expect from the event. I knew Shane and the other Michigan soldiers who had died within the past year would be honored. Governor Snyder would sign the Gold Star License Plate bills into law. Some people would talk. We would eat some lunch. Maybe we would be sad, maybe we wouldn't.

So we traveled to Lansing. I was on edge that morning. I'm sure my mother knew that it was because the event would make me emotional, but I was not yet aware of that and thought that I would be just fine.

We watched Governor Snyder sign the Gold Star License Plate bill into law. Senator John Pappageorge made a speech before the signing about how people used to live in the front of their houses but now our license plates would serve as the front of our houses, to let people know what had happened to our loved ones, to pay their respects. It was fitting. It was respectful.

Then it was time for the actual presentation. We had received the sort of booklet that one normally receives at events like these. There are probably over a dozen littered around our house from various events. I don't know why we keep things like this; I never look at them again after the event, but there is a feeling that getting rid of them would be slightly sacreligious. That it might take a piece of Shane away. So they are kept and tucked into corners and placed into piles, only to be found months later when cleaning. They do not suffer the fate of old magazines, which are thrown in the trash when a certain amount of time passes. Instead, these pamphlets are saved from the trash heap or recycling bin, for the mere fact that that have a very specific name within their pages.

So we were given booklets. And they had pictures of the Michigan casualties from within the past year, along with some words about the men. Shane's write-up was inaccurate and did not mention that he had received a Bronze Star. It was also partially plagarized, which I will always find to be incredibly lazy and annoying. This stuck me as an indication of sloppiness, hastiness, not quite caring enough-iness.I flipped through the booklet after we had taken our seats and made it all the way up to the first speaker before I started crying. She was a Gold Star Mother, speaking about when two soldiers had come to tell her that her son had been killed. Her words were not touching to me. She was not a great orator. But still, I fled the room and perched myself on a ledge in the bathroom.

My mother followed me, making sure that I was okay. I, apparently, was not. I told her that I didn't understand why I was getting so emotional. That I was tired of being sad all the time. That I was tired of people making me sad. I told her to please go back and sit with my father. That I would not be returning but that I would be fine and mill around the Capitol Building. Finally assured that I was temporarily okay, she went back to her seat. I found my way into the old Michigan Supreme Court courtroom. As I sat in the grand room, marveling at the architecture and intricate designs painted on the walls, I could hear the first speaker still droning on, although I could not hear her actual words. At least fifteen minutes had passed since I had the room. I didn't know how she was still talking, or what she would possibly be talking about that the other Gold Star Families in the room -- who made up a strong majority of the audience -- had not experienced in some form or another themselves. And that's really when it hit me. That I had been crying not because of that woman's story, but because of my family's story. Because my mother had gone through a day when two soldiers came to the door. And my father and I received phone calls from my mother informing us of the terrible news that same day. And that woman behind the podium was bringing all that up, when I had found a way to cope and to manage and to filter through the feelings of everything that had happened since those two soldiers came to our front door. I became angry that I was being brought backward in my grief process. But more than angry, I lacked understanding. I didn't understand why the speaker was telling a story that had already been experienced by her audience. And then I found myself wondering what sort of things I would have been talking about. It would have been about Shane's life. About the sort of person he was. About how I was sure that everyone would love to give back being a Gold Star Family if they could just have a couple of seconds with their loved one. It wouldn't have been about the day the soldiers told my mother Shane was never coming home as a living, breathing person. It wouldn't have been about the funeral. It wouldn't have been about the burial. It wouldn't have been about the aftermath of any of that.

But no one asked me to speak, so I guess I'm speaking here.

After the speaking ceased and the doors opened, I was reunited with my parents. They said it was very touching when Senator Phil Pavlov placed a flag honoring Shane in a basket during some sort of ceremony. My mother said that a little girl had been eating her boogers. This made me smile and become slightly grossed out, as boogers have never sounded appetizing to me. And we piled in the car to head to the Governor's residence.

The residence is in a beautiful neighborhood, with perfectly manicured lawns and old homes. All of the Gold Star Families were made to park in a shoddy lot with cracked cement. This lot was located a fair distance from the actual residence. It was also raining and had been raining for the past few days. We schlepped our way in the rain to the Governor's residence, where we were escorted in. While the original invitation to the event had informed us that the luncheon was to take place outside, I thought that surely this plan had changed, due to the cold and rainy weather. I figured that furniture would have been moved around to accommodate the families or that we would be a basement of some sort.

But I was wrong.

We were shown right on out of the house and into the backyard. To a tent. Without side protection from the rain. Without anything to soak up the rain water that was an inch deep in the cold grass. With rows of chairs and a podium, not round or square tables. With bodies crammed together because of the cold. With people sitting in those rows of chairs with plates of food on their laps.

I was disgusted. I was horrified. I was temporarily stuck thinking that maybe I was at a 4H Fair, but then realized that at 4H Fairs there are always barns to take shelter in when it rains. And then I realized that my feet were soaking wet. I looked at my mother and father. Thankfully, my father was the first to say that it was time to go, taking the words out of mine and my mother's mouths. We walked back through the house and out the front door. We appeared in the driveway and my father pointed out that I had mud all over my leg. I found it fitting.

And so we left.

I'm disgusted that Governor Snyder put on such an abortion of an event for Michigan's Gold Star Families and Veterans. While I'm sure that he did not personally put the event together, someone who works for him did. And it was awful. It was disrespectful. It was in no way, shape, or form an event that CEOs or Representatives or Senators would have been invited to and expected to just accept. I don't know how or why other people stayed standing in that cold rain. Maybe they thought it was lovely. I thought it would have been better to have nothing at all than to have the "luncheon" they were trying to pass off. Luncheons involve tables. They involve small talk. They involve getting to know people and sharing stories. They do not involve rows of chairs in water-soaked grass, listening to someone drone on at a podium while people struggle to eat off of their laps.

So I don't think I'll be attending another one of those types of services. I don't need them. I don't like them. I don't want to hear someone else's version of my and family's experiences. I don't need a ceremony for Shane. I have a ceremony for him every single day. One that doesn't involve being soggy or sitting in uncomfortable chairs or inaccurate information. My ceremony involves love and happy memories and sometimes sad memories and knowing that I will always be carrying a piece of Shane inside of my heart, as will my mother and my father and anyone else who wants to hold Shane dear.

Graduation

2011-05-12T09:12:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow, I will graduate from law school. When I began law school, I admittedly had no idea what I was doing or what I had gotten myself into. I knew that it would be tough, but I did not realize that it would change the way I looked at the world, the way I thought, and the way I engaged with others.

Along the way, I read more books and cases and statutes than I ever thought possible. Certain semesters, I spent 14 hour days at school. About once a year, I had horrible moments when I doubted everything about myself and didn't think that I was smart enough to be at law school. I met other people who also want to be lawyers, some of whom will be very bad lawyers, and some of whom will be very good and honest lawyers. Some of those in the latter category became my dearest friends, who I consider to be family and understand me in a way that few people do.

Most importantly, I found myself at law school, and finding myself meant that I know what type of lawyer I want to be, even though job prospects are currently few and far between for my colleagues and myself. I will be hardworking and advocate zealously for my clients, no matter if that client is a multi-million dollar corporation or a single person. I will not be consumed by a need to make money, but instead a need to feel that I am making someone else's life better and to be content with my career. I will be ethical and remember that legal decisions impact real human lives and I must always be able to sleep with myself at night.

I should feel pretty good about myself and about my graduation tomorrow. Instead, I'm weepy and edgy. I don't want to have to put on a cap and gown and hood and smile. I don't want to pose for photographs. I don't want to be involved a ceremony or sit with my fellow graduates or be handed a piece of paper. But mostly, I don't want to look up in the audience only to find that the person I want to be at my graduation the most isn't there, knowing that he should be.

And when I say "should be," I mean that in the literal sense, because Shane would be home from Afghanistan right now. And his leave time would have started. And he would have been sitting in the audience and I would have been able to find him in a sea of faces. And once I had found him I would have waved frantically, and mouthed "Hi, buddy," and grinned like an idiot. And he would've smiled and shaken him head slightly at how goofy I looked and waved back.

The last contact that I ever had with Shane was a text message that I received on November 5, 2010, at 9:33 p.m. my time:

Hey found out we're all supposed to leave here no later than April 18. My leave starts may 13! Love you. Gonna sleep after guard sooo tired

I responded:

That's awesome, buddy! I think I graduate that day! Love you so much! Sweet dreams.

Shane was in an area that's eight or eight and half hours ahead of my time. Meaning he sent that message at either 5:33 or 6:03 a.m. on November 6, 2010. I know now that he didn't go to sleep, even though he was so tired. I'll never know why, and I'll always be a little bit sore at him for not just going to sleep. Instead, as I read later in reports, he went to the gym, and then he became involved in a firefight, during which he was killed.

Within an hour of sending me that message, he was killed. Of course, I didn't find out until the middle of the afternoon my time on November 6, 2010, that Shane had been killed. So I had half a day where I thought that my brother was going to be home for my graduation. Ever since he left for Afghanistan, I had it in my mind that he wouldn't be there. But that half a day of knowing that he would be at the ceremony has made the last week and the upcoming tomorrow torturous for me.

So tomorrow will be tough. I won't be happy like I should be. I might get weepy. But I will go and I will put on a cap and gown and hood and smile. And I will pose for photographs. And I will be involved a ceremony and sit with my fellow graduates and be handed a piece of paper. And I will probably still look up in the audience, knowing that he won't be there but having to look anyways, just in case, for the person I want to be at my graduation the most, not being able to find him, knowing that he should be there.

2011-04-28T13:20:00.000-04:00

Sometimes it amazes me how much Shane can still be at the forefront of my thoughts when I have so many other things on my mind. When Shane first died, I wondered if he would fade from my memory with time. So far, he hasn't. It's been less than 6 months since he was killed, so maybe eventually his memory will fade. But there are so many times that I catch myself thinking that he's still alive. I hear a song and think how I need to tell him about it. I remember something silly from our childhood and want to recollect with him. I'm feeling really anxious and want him to talk to me to remind me to calm down and that everything is okay. And then I'll remember how I can't do any of those things and I feel pained.

One Year Ago...

2011-04-10T17:10:00.000-04:00

Spring Break! Spring Break is usually a time of revitalizing my weary soul. Last year I traveled to Fort Campbell and Nashville. I traveled by myself – the first time ever! I was going to have a mini vacation with Shane before he deployed in May. We all took separate turns – Beth, then me, and then Kurt to visit Shane before he left for Afghanistan. Shane did not want us to watch him actually leave, so we each spent time with Shane before that day in May.

Driving to Fort Campbell I witnessed spring opening up before my very eyes. The drive soothed my soul as I watched green leaves appear on trees and flowers blooming along the roads.

The first night we stayed near Fort Campbell and Shane showed me around the area. I got to see a part of his life that I knew so little about. Then the next two nights we went to Nashville. This was my first visit to Nashville, and I fell in love with the town. Music was always so important to Shane, and we experienced so much music. We talked about everything under the sun. We laughed and shed a few tears because I vowed to be strong.

On Sunday I needed to return home because school was on Monday. I remember checking out of the hotel, and Shane and I each got into our cars. I remember I was in front and he was right behind me. I remember leaving the parking structure with Shane in my rear view mirror. I remember going down the street to the stop sign. I remember having to turn left. I remember Shane having to turn right. I remember watching Shane in my rear view mirror going further and further away. And then I could no longer contain my tears.

Today we went to the cemetery – it is a beautiful setting. Usually I watch the deer and the geese around the lake, but today the deer must have been napping. And then I remembered my life a year ago.

Today, in my rear view mirror, I watched Shane’s headstone getting further and further away. How different my life is today. One year ago – so much has changed…

I will cherish the memories that Shane gave each of us. I will take the “gifts” he gave me and continue to strive to do my best on each given day. I will continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”

Always and forever,

Shane’s mammy and Beth’s momma

Being Strong

2011-04-06T10:43:00.000-04:00

Today, I choose to be strong instead of weak. I choose to get out of bed, to shower, to be a functioning human being. It would be great to take the day off of life -- have a personal day. This would be weak and slightly pathetic. And I refuse to be pathetic. Yes, today will be tough. But Shane was a strong person and so am I. And I will continue to be strong in his absence.

2011-04-01T23:09:00.002-04:00

"I'm still willing to continue living with the burden of this memory. Even though this is a painful memory, even though this memory makes my heart ache. Sometimes I almost want to ask God to let me forget this memory. But as long as I try to be strong and not run away, doing my best, there will finally be someday...there will be finally be someday I can overcome this painful memory. I believe I can. I believe I can do it. There is no memory that can be forgotten, there is not that kind of memory. Always in my heart."

-- Natsuki Takaya

"I thought this wouldn't hurt a lot, I guess not"

2011-03-29T09:11:00.000-04:00

Shane and I are driving in the car somewhere. I am driving, like always, because Shane doesn't like to drive. He is sitting in the passenger seat. I declare that it's my turn to pick some music.

I put on one of my favorite songs, "Kids" by MGMT. Shane has never heard this song, as far as I am aware. At the time, I've never heard the song played on the radio.

The first 15 seconds or so of the song play. I'm nervous for Shane's opinion because I'm sharing a song that means something to me.

"What is this? More of your terrible world music?"

My heart sinks.

"Oh, come on! This is my favorite song. It's good! It's MGMT! And it's not world music."

"I don't know; I think it's more of your world music that you try to get me to listen to."

"Fine you don't have to like it but I'm listening to the whole song."

Shane had hurt my feelings without knowing that he had done so. Granted, I didn't write or perform the song. But it really meant something to me and I wanted the song to mean something to Shane, too. It was the sort of song that I could listen to while laying in the grass on a sunny day, looking at clouds and thinking about absolutely nothing.

* * * * *

I find myself in the car again. I am driving alone, like always. Well over a year has past since Shane and I listened to "Kids" in the car.

I had grabbed Shane's ipod off of the table before I left the house and I'm listening to that on shuffle. Some of the songs are familiar. Some I've never heard. Some are too violent. Some make me too sad. There's a lot of skipping around while I'm driving. A few songs have played, but nothing of note, and I'm on the expressway. A familiar intro comes on, one with the sound of children's voices, and my eyes immediately well up to the point that a normal person might consider pulling over. But I've gotten so used to crying in the car that it seems almost unnatural to not cry. The song is "Kids," by MGMT. A song that Shane called my "terrible world music." And it's on Shane's ipod.

What does this mean, I ask myself. Why is it on Shane's ipod? Did he like the song? Why would it be on his ipod if he didn't like it?

I'll never get the answers to any of my questions. I'll never know why Shane had "Kids" on his ipod. I know that he purchased the song -- the entire album it's on, actually -- but that's all I know. In my mind, I think Shane remembered me playing the song in the car. That he downloaded the album at some point because he wasn't really a "singles" kind of guy. He would have listened to the entire album, from start to finish, because that's what Shane did with every album he ever purchased. And when he listened to the album or a song from it, he thought of me, because I think of him every time I listen to a song that he brought me to.

That could all be a lie that I made up to make myself feel closer to my brother. But, it could also be a fact that makes me feel closer to my brother. I'll never know for sure which one it is, but I know now that every time I listen to "Kids," I will think of Shane.

Gold Star Family License Plate, Part II

2011-03-27T15:12:00.003-04:00

I have taken the time to draft sample letters that can easily be sent to your Michigan State Senator or Representative. Please feel free to modify these letters in any way you wish, and do not forget to include the name of the Senator or Representative to whom you are sending the letter. Simply copy and paste the appropriate letter into a Word document and modify as you see fit.

TO A MICHIGAN STATE SENATOR

Senator,

I am writing in regards to Senate Bill 0102, which seeks to amend M.C.L. 257.803e to authorize that "[t]he spouse, parent, sibling, or child of a member of the Armed Services who died during combat may make application to the Secretary of State for a special registration plate that shall be inscribed with special identification numbers preceded by a gold star and shall have the words "Gold Star Family" inscribed beneath the registration number."

Please help ensure that Senate Bill 0102 is passed this term. As a Michigan citizen, I was appalled to learn that our state is one of only four states that does not have a license plate acknowledging Gold Star Families. This is especially saddening when one takes into account that 1,456 Michigan citizens were casualties of the Korean War, 2,652 Michigan citizens were casualties of the Vietnam War, 13 Michigan citizens were casualties of Operation Desert Storm, 158 Michigan citizens were casualties of Operation Iraqi Freedom, and 40 Michigan citizens were casualties of Operation Enduring Freedom thus far. This adds up to at least 4,319Michigan citizens who have given their lives so that the rest of us may remain free.

Those 4,319 Michigan Armed Services members all likely left behind families. And these families are not given the opportunity to honor their loved ones in a public manner with a special license plate. If, according to the Michigan Department of State website, Michigan citizens are given access to 4 standard plates, 24 fundraising plates, 25 veteran/military service plates, 60 collector plates, historical plates, and authentic plates, why should Gold Star Families not be given a special license plate acknowledging their families’ sacrifice? Allowing for a Gold Star Family license plate not only gives the family itself a chance to honor their hero, but also gives the public at large a visible reminder that our freedom is not free.

So, Senator, I urge you to do the right thing and vote in favor of passing Senate Bill 0102 this term.

Thank you,

_______________________________________________________________________

TO A MICHIGAN STATE REPRESENTATIVE

Representative,

I am writing in regards to House Bill 4088, which seeks to amend M.C.L. 257.803e to authorize that "[t]he spouse, parent, sibling, or child of a member of the Armed Services who died during combat may make application to the Secretary of State for a special registration plate that shall be inscribed with special identification numbers preceded by a gold star and shall have the words "Gold Star Family" inscribed beneath the registration number."

Please help ensure that House Bill 4088 is passed this term. As a Michigan citizen, I was appalled to learn that our state is one of only four states that does not have a license plate acknowledging Gold Star Families. This is especially saddening when one takes into account that 1,456 Michigan citizens were casualties of the Korean War, 2,652 Michigan citizens were casualties of the Vietnam War, 13 Michigan citizens were casualties of Operation Desert Storm, 158 Michigan citizens were casualties of Operation Iraqi Freedom, and 40 Michigan citizens were casualties of Operation Enduring Freedom thus far. This adds up to at least 4,319 Michigan citizens who have given their lives so that the rest of us may remain free.

So, Representative, I urge you to do the right thing and vote in favor of passing House Bill 4088 this term.

Thank you,

_______________________________________________________________________

Photo Sunday

2011-03-27T12:16:00.000-04:00

Shane, playing with puppies in the front yard, circa 1995.

Gold Star Family License Plate, Part I

2011-03-26T12:26:00.008-04:00

After Shane's death, my family and I immediately began hearing about how we were now a "Gold Star Family." My dad is a Gold Star Dad. My mom is a Gold Star Mom. And I am a Gold Star Sibling/Sister. At first, I had no idea what this meant and did not really care. But now, being in a Gold Star Family is something very close to my heart.

A member of a Gold Star Family is any member of the immediate family of a person who died in a combat zone while a member of any branch of the armed services. It is the reason why, for those who know me, I wear my Gold Star lapel pin.

It is also why my family has a Gold Star Service Flag hanging in the window of our home.

I recently learned about Gold Star License Plates. These plates remind the general public of the great sacrifice that men and women have made for our country in a very open and public way. According to American Gold Star Mothers, Inc., all but four states have Gold Star Family License Plates, and Michigan happens to be one of the four that does not. I was deeply saddened to learn this. Especially because

1,456 Michigan citizens were casualties of the Korean War
2,652 Michigan citizens were casualties of the Viet Nam War
13 Michigan citizens were casualties of Operation Desert Storm
158 Michigan citizens were casualties of Operation Iraqi Freedom
40 Michigan citizens, including my brother, were casualties of Operation Enduring Freedom

That means, in the state of Michigan alone, 4,319 families have been affected by the casualties of war.

Last term, bills creating a Gold Star License Plate were introduced in the Michigan House and Senate, but failed.

This year, the identical Senate Bill 0102 (SB0102) and House Bill 4088 (HB4088) have been introduced to again attempt to amend Michigan Compiled Law 257.803e to authorize

"The spouse, parent, sibling, or child of a member of the Armed Services who died during combat may make application to the Secretary of State for a special registration plate that shall be inscribed with special identification numbers preceded by a gold star and shall have the words "Gold Star Family" inscribed beneath the registration number."

I do not plan on doing nothing and will do my part to make sure that these bills do not fail again. They have both been referred to the Committee on Transportation, but citizens of Michigan need to persuade their Senators and Representatives to vote in favor of the bills. If you are interested in telling your elected officials that the passing of SB0102 and HB4088 is important to you, please contact them, as I plan on doing. Click the links below to find which district you live in and the street and email addresses of all 110 Michigan Representatives and all 38 Michigan Senators.

District Map
Michigan State Representatives
Michigan State Senators

If you would like to send a letter, CLICK HERE for sample letters to send to a state senator or representative.

Final Words

2011-03-24T22:06:00.000-04:00

My birthday is November 1, and I got the only thing that I wanted for my birthday -- a phone call from Shane. Shane rarely called his family when he was deployed. It was very difficult to not be able to hear his voice all the time, but that was how he wanted it. He said that calling and talking was just too difficult for him and we respected that, even though it hurt immensely. But I was able to hear the sound of his voice just five days before he was killed.

I don't really remember what we talked about because I was just so excited to be hearing Shane's voice on the other end of the phone. He sounded so old on the phone and definitely not like my "baby" brother anymore. But I do remember the end of our conversation.

"Well, Bethie, I gotta go, my time's up."

"Okay, Buddy. Thank you for calling it was the best present that I got!"

"Love you, Bethie."

"Love you too, Buddy! Stay safe!"

Not a day goes by that I don't think about Shane. But something I never have to think about are regrets with him. I always told him I loved him every single time we talked or texted or messaged. And he told me that he loved me, too. I always told Shane everything I was feeling, for better or for worse, and I think he did the same with me. That meant that sometimes we fought. But I think it also meant that we loved each other more because our love for each other was honest.

Would I like the chance to tell him that I loved him one more time? Of course. But I don't feel that I missed out on any opportunities to do so.

I think it all goes back to when we were kids. Our parents would never let us go to bed angry with one another, because you never knew what could happen before the morning came. While it would be five more mornings before Shane was killed from the last time we spoke, I like to think that our love for one another lasted those 5 more mornings, and will have to continue to last me for the rest of my life.

There are Different Ways a Soldier can Come Home

2011-03-22T10:16:00.000-04:00

Shane's brothers-in-arms are coming home soon. I'm happy that they're coming home safely. On Facebook, I see a lot of updates from the men themselves, their wives, and family. All of these updates are happy, as they should be. Their loved ones are coming home.

But.

My brother came home in a box.

"My Heart's Been Broke For A While; Your's Been The One Keepin' Me Alive"

2011-03-21T21:47:00.000-04:00

Shane-o, if you were alive I would tell you about this song or send it to you. I don't know if you would like it or not, but I have a feeling that you would. So I'm leaving it here for you, because I don't have anywhere else to leave it.

RIP Nate Dogg

2011-03-16T21:53:00.000-04:00

Nate Dogg died today. Shane really liked him a lot. Maybe, if there's a heaven or some other magic-fun-place, Nate Dogg is putting on a concert and Shane is in the audience.

Whale Songs

2011-03-10T17:43:00.000-05:00

We were driving on the expressway somewhere. Maybe to a relative's house or out to dinner. We were in Michigan in the summertime, so obviously there was roadwork being done. This was the kind of roadwork that involved lane shifts and the possibility of driving over the groove patches on the shoulder that are designed to keep drivers from drifting. We happened to be in one of the temporary lanes that involved driving over those grooves. I became increasingly agitated.

"AHHHK! That noise is really awful and driving me insane," I whined.

"Calm down, Bethie," Shane said to me, in the voice he saved for instances in which he was being particularly compassionate. "It's just a noise."

"It hurts my ears and Ijustwantittostop."

I had let the noise seep into my brain. I felt my anxiety raise with each groove patch the car went over.

"I know," Shane said, "But if you just think of it as being something else, then it won't bother you so much."

"NOTHING else sounds like that. It's terrible and miserable."

"I always think of it as whale songs. And if you think about it being whales talking to one another, it's really not so bad."

I was irate, but suddenly calmer. He was right and had completely beaten any argument that I might have had. So, in a rare instance, I shut my mouth. And I listened to the whale songs.

I don't remember exactly when that conversation took place. I think it was before Shane was even openly talking about joining the Army. But it's something that I've always kept with me. The groove patches still grate on my nerves, but whenever I hear them for an extended period of time, I think of Shane and his perspective. It was an odd thing for him to think, in my opinion, because I never really viewed Shane as being an optimist until that time. He, much like myself, was his own worst enemy, and was harder on himself than anyone else in the world. Up until that conversation in the car, I would have coined him a pessimist. But that day, my perspective of my brother completely changed. I had always considered Shane to be a very unique person, but his world view was one that I have truly never encountered before and one that I believe I would have finding now. I suppose that is part of what makes him being gone so difficult -- knowing that I won't ever find anyone who compares groove patches to whale songs.

It's still very much winter. Even though it rained this morning, this evening it's snowing again. On my drive home, I thought about the groove patches and about spring and summer and the almost certainty of roadwork. And I look forward to being stuck in a makeshift lane, driving over groove patches. Listening to whale songs. Feeling like I'm in the car with my brother again.

Surrounded by Love

2011-03-09T23:27:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, when you're in a really low place, it helps to pull your head up, look around, and realize that you are surrounded by love. You can't always see the love. It's easy to shut it out or ignore it. But it's there.

I find that I shut this love out a lot, especially when I'm in those really low places. I've closed up my heart and don't let anyone or anything in, because love can cause a lot of pain. Today, I forced myself to open my heart up just a little bit. Because I was feeling rather raw and broken. Because yesterday was a shit day. Because sometimes you have to reach those really low places in order to start building yourself back up again. Because keeping my heart closed all the time is actually a tremendous amount of work when there are so many people in this world who have love for me.

I read what I've written and think, that doesn't sound like you. That sounds like it was written by someone you would probably make fun of for being a sap. But it's how I feel today. And it's how I wish I felt most days. I didn't end up finding the strength in my heart where Shane told me it would be. I found it in other people's hearts. And it was more than enough to keep me going until tomorrow.

"When your strength fails, take some of mine. It will be in your heart when you need it." -Shane Reifert

2011-03-08T17:13:00.000-05:00

"When your strength fails, take some of mine. It will be in your heart when you need it."

Shane wrote this to me in a letter when he was still going through Basic. I had it inscribed on a set of dog tags that I wear when I'm having a particularly rough day or need a bit of luck. It's one of the most beautiful things anyone has ever said to me, and I'm glad it came from my brother. Most of the time, it works. Whenever I think I'm having a rough day, or someone isn't being very nice to me, or I have a list of things I need to do longer than I can count, I repeat Shane's words to myself and I think about him and what he would say to me. I think about all of the rough days that he had in Basic and in Afghanistan. I think about how much of a strong person he was for doing what he did with his life.

Then I usually tell myself to stop feeling so sorry for myself and to accomplish whatever I need to accomplish, and things are fine. Today is one of those days where I have to keep saying that over and over to myself and I can't seem to find any strength left.

I've been having a pity party for one all day and no matter how many times I look for Shane's strength in my heart, I can't seem to find any. People tell me how strong I am. But I feel weak all the time -- like I've been living off of fake strength for the past four months and maybe reality is finally starting to catch up.

4 Months

2011-03-06T09:52:00.000-05:00

From Post Secret:

Miss you, buddy. Every single day.

Member of the 1-327 Killed in Action

2011-03-01T08:45:00.000-05:00

Please keep the family and friends of Specialist Brian Tabada, of the 1st Battalion, 327th Infantry Regiment, 1st Brigade Combat Team, 101st Airborne Division, in your thoughts.

According to the Department of Defense, Specialist Tabada, of Las Vegas, Nevada, was killed in action on February 27, 2011, while fighting in the Kunar Province, Afghanistan. He died as a result of wounds suffered when insurgents attacked his unit using small arms fire and a rocket propelled grenade.

He was only 21.

Redacted

2011-03-01T08:07:00.000-05:00

Reading a death report from the Army is like playing the worst game of Mad Libs you can imagine.

There are no nouns. No names of characters. No places. No times. Just cold details and multiple versions of the same exact thing, signed with signatures that have all been redacted, labeled like exhibits for a trial in which no one will ever be charged. So much the same exact thing, that there is no way it's what the writers of those different versions actually remember. I've read enough police and eyewitness reports to know that it's impossible for 30 people to remember something taking place in the same exact way. The human brain just doesn't work that way.

I am in no way suggesting that this indicates any kind of fraud or deception. The report has to read this way because most people would probably infer that different stories indicates some kind of fraud of deception. And a part of me does understand why I was forced to play a terrible game of Mad Libs. But the rest of me thinks that I've gone through enough pain as part of the aftermath of Shane's death that I should just get to read the real report, just one time, so that my brain doesn't have to play mental gymnastics to make sense of document with redaction after redaction.

50,000 Hits

2011-02-25T09:54:00.000-05:00

Thank you to everyone who reads this blog. When we started it, I never imagined that we would get to 50,000 hits. Of course, I would much rather have Shane back than know people have been reading this. But since getting him back doesn't seem to be an option, the blog has been a comfort and has hopefully allowed people to get to know Shane and my family. And most importantly, the blog has allowed many of you to donate and help soldiers. So thank you for reading and for your continued support.

Time Doesn't Heal Wounds, It Just Passes

2011-02-23T11:53:00.000-05:00

"Time heals all wounds" is a popular saying. I used to believe that it was true. Any heartbreak that I had, any mistake that I made, any bad day was always made better with time. Sometimes it would take days or weeks to make whatever wound I had to start to heal, but the wound would always start to scab over.

This time, though, nothing. Time isn't healing anything. My wounds are just as open as they were the day that Shane was killed. They're slightly different wounds, but they still hurt like hell.

Part of me wants to forget about Shane for just a few minutes. To find a place where he hasn't been, a song that he hasn't heard, a meal he hasn't eaten. Even if I were to find a new location, I couldn't get rid of Shane if I tried because he permeates every part of my brain. And then another part of me just feels immense guilt for thinking such thoughts. And then the cycle repeats.

I suppose that time has allowed me to cope with Shane's death. But coping with something and having something healed are two completely different things. I know that I've become better at coping. But I haven't started healing. And part of me thinks that I never will.

Times of War

2011-02-22T17:38:00.000-05:00

"In times of peace, sons bury their fathers. In times of war, fathers bury their sons."

~ King Croesus

"All I Mind's Losing You"

2011-02-20T09:28:00.000-05:00

I sleep in my brother’s bedroom every night. On his pillows. Surrounded by all of things, untouched since he left them. I suppose that this could be interpreted as morbid. But I find it comforting. I like waking up in the morning to see a young Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix on the walls. Not because I love Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix – I do, but that’s not the point. I also like waking up to see Shane’s book and music collections, and not because I would pick the exact same book and music collections. The reason I like waking up to these things is because Shane liked these things. Shane picked the Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix posters. He picked every CD sprawled over every surface in the room. And he read probably most books in his collection, especially the Star Wars ones. All of these things, added with many others, are part of what made Shane, Shane.

So I wonder, what happens if the room becomes disturbed? What happens if I take a shirt out of the drawer? What happens if I read a book and forget to put it back? What happens when, on some day in the future, these things are packed away or given away? Will I lose a part of Shane? Will that make him more of a memory some how? Does that mean I might forget a part of him?

It’s easy to remember everything now because it’s all still fresh in my mind. I can imagine that Shane is still in Afghanistan and that he will be coming home in two or three months. Then, in two or three months, I will have to make up something else to tell myself when Shane does not come home with everyone else. And time will only continue to move forward, bringing an ever-distancing gap between my brother and me. Things will continue to happen to me. People will enter my life. Events will occur. Lessons will have to be learned. And all of these things will need to be remembered. And I become afraid of remembering these new things – afraid that they will take over my memories and push Shane out. Of course, when I rationally think about it, I know that isn’t how memory works. But even with reason and logic, my concern remains. And that is that I’m going to lose Shane.

Pity Party

2011-02-10T08:12:00.000-05:00

Today is a day where I would like nothing more than to lay around feeling sorry for myself and saying, "why me" to no one in particular. I don't want a dead brother. I want an alive brother who is going to be coming home from Afghanistan by the time the weather is nice out and who I can go visit and talk to on the phone and in person and share music with and fight with if I'm angry at him and laugh with him about a stupid joke and cry with him if I'm sad or just sit in silence with him because sometimes that's okay, too. I want to yell at someone that none of this is fair. That Shane was a good person and didn't deserve to die. That I just want my brother back. I want someone to tell me that the joke is over and Shane can come out now and be alive and I won't even get sore about the past three months being awful if I can just please have my brother back. So if that could just happen soon I'd really appreciate it.

I wish that Shane was just some kid I knew and not my brother so that all of this didn't hurt so badly. So that I could just move on. But there really isn't ever going to be any moving on. There will be adjusting and there will be a point where I can drive in the car by myself without crying, yes, but there won't ever be moving on because I don't get another brother. I can get a boyfriend or a husband or a guy friend or a son but I can never get another brother.

And now I just feel selfish for all of the things that I think and feel right now and I know that all of this is normal or is probably normal because I don't read any books about this sort of thing. But I just want a break from it.

Don't Be Afraid of a Date on a Calendar

2011-02-06T09:31:00.001-05:00

It’s just another day, I tell myself. And in reality, that’s all any day is. Just another 24 hours in a long series of days that eventually turn into weeks, months, years, decades, lives.

But you know it’s more than just a day. Right. Three months ago, Shane’s live abruptly ended. Although I could imagine the possibility of Shane dying (he was, after all, in an active warzone where his company was actively fired upon multiple times a day), I never could have imagined the aftermath of death. It’s awful. The dead get to die. The living are expected to keep on, well, living. Shane is hopefully in heaven or experiencing some sort of peaceful afterlife existence. Maybe he was reincarnated and is getting ready to start a new life as human or a dog or a bumblebee. My mom did always say that Shane had a very old soul so it wouldn’t really surprise me if whomever is in charge up there decided to give his one more go in a new form. Wherever he is, hopefully it’s better. But the rest of us are still here. So what do we do?

Me, I’ve begun to be afraid of dates on a calendar. The 6th of December was difficult and painful. Shane’s death was still very fresh. But the 6th of January passed without incident for me and I was really proud of that. So I thought that would become a trend – that every 6th would be nothing more than a date on a calendar for me. Instead, I’ve been dreading this 6th for the past few days and I don’t know why.

Maybe it’s just the time of year and the weather. At this moment, everything seems perpetually gloomy and like the world will remained covered in snow and ice and cold for rest of eternity. Maybe it’s that this is the three-month marker. Maybe it’s just because I was taken out of my grieving process for that second month anniversary and I’ve finally settled back into things. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that it’s here. I had nightmares all night and woke up abruptly at 6:22. Everyone else is asleep. I’m alone at the moment, sitting in the dark chill of the morning, unsure of whether I even have the energy to cry about things.

Today, I will get out of bed. I will shower. I will assemble an outfit. I will go out into the world and at least fake functionality. I will remember my brother. And today, I will try to not let the hole in my heart consume me.

"It's All Right to Cry. Crying Gets the Sad out of You."

2011-02-04T11:07:00.000-05:00

I often find myself wondering whether I'm where I'm supposed to be on the grief scale. Am I grieving enough? Too much? Was I laughing too much the other day? Is it okay that I still cry in the car every day? It's tough to say. I haven't read any literature on grief and I don't really talk to people about my it except for those closest to me. And everyone says basically the same thing -- that grief is a very personal journey and it's never the same for any two people.

There are days that are more difficult than others. Yesterday I woke up feeling melancholy and could not figure out why. The not being able to figure out why occurs rather often. I will have a sense of sadness or start crying and I'm not quite sure why. I almost have to remind myself that maybe I feel blue because I'm grieving the loss of Shane. I think the reason behind this is that I don't want to admit to myself that I'm still being sad.

If I know anything about my brother, it would be that he would not want the people he loved to sit around mourning him. He would want to be remembered, absolutely, but he would also want us to carry on with our lives. To find happiness, to find love, to live our lives. I try to remember that when I start feeling a sense of grief overcome me. I allow myself to feel anger or pain or fear or sadness or loss. But then I move on with my day. Shane is always with me, in my heart. But I don't allow the sadness that his death created to overshadow my life. Because if I were to do that, it would just consume me and I would be trapped in the Nothing.

The people who told me at the funeral home that this will never go away were right. I was talking to Shane in the car about that the other day, a place where I often find myself having conversations with the air. How those people really knew what they were talking about. It never stops hurting. It will never go away. There will always be a hole in my heart that cannot be filled. And I would even say that it doesn't ever get easier, it just gets "different."

Shane isn't someone capable of being replaced for anyone whose life he touched. And for me, he isn't someone capable of being moved on from. He was my only brother and I will never get another one. Sometimes I wish that I had other siblings so that the loss of Shane could be cushioned by having other brothers or sisters to lean on. But most of the time, I'm content with having had 23 years with one amazing little brother.

So I guess for now, it's alright to continue crying in the car. Maybe one day I'll be able to take a car ride by myself and not feel the familiar wet sting on my face of tears. But that day probably won't be today. And it probably won't be tomorrow.

Edible Arrangements

2011-01-30T11:47:00.000-05:00

After Shane died, my parents and my best friend and I were gathered at home, preparing for a day at the funeral home or maybe one of the days right before the funeral home. Everyone was in pajamas, if I remember correctly, except for my best friend, who was put together and making sure that we were at least semi-functioning. There was a knock at the door. My best friend appeared to go answer the door and then came into the room where I was, muttering something slightly undiscernible and suggesting that I needed to go answer the door.

At the door was a man with the widest smile I've possibly ever seen. He was wearing orange and purple and holding and obscenely large bouquet of fruit. So large that he was struggling to keep it upright.

"HELLO!"

I stared back in disbelief. What was this strange little man doing at the door? What was this bouquet of fruit? Why was he so happy? Would I ever be that happy again? Was I ever that happy to begin with? Probably not. Could I even fake being that happy? Probably not successfully. Seriously, was this man on medication? Did he have a head injury? These are the thoughts that flew through my head as I stared at the man, unable to form proper words.

Finally, I answered, "How can I help you?"

"Well, I have an Edible Arrangement for you! And boy, is this one special because it even has special chocolate sauce! And I've never gotten to deliver one with special chocolate sauce before! So this must be a very special delivery! Now, if you can just take this, I need to run back to the car so that I can get a little signature from you and give you one of our wonderful calendars!"

The man somehow placed the Edible Arrangement into my arms and, in the memory I've kept of the moment, skipped off to his delivery van to get a calendar and something for me to sign with a "little signature."

I must have managed to hand off the arrangement to someone else, collect the special chocolate sauce and calendar from the man, and give him a little signature. He was smiling the entire time. Couldn't he see our misery, I thought to myself. Didn't he read the card?

"Have a great day!!" The man trotted back to his van and drove out of our lives.

I turned around to face my family and friends. And something magical happened. We all started laughing. Real laughter. Not forced, conversational laughter. But real, honest, doesn't-make-you-sound-attractive laughter that comes from deep down in your belly.

That moment proved for me that life does, in fact, go on. Sometimes it starts to go on during a time when we least expect, like when you're minding your own business, attempting to be miserable and grieve in your pajamas. Life forces you to have moments of happiness and laughter, even if it then thrusts you into four miserable days of funeral homes and funerals and burials.

I don't remember who sent the Edible Arrangement, I think it was a friend of my mother's. It was excessively large and took a long time to disassemble but it gave us fresh fruit to eat. And it gave us laughter. Throughout the rest of that week, we kept seeing Edible Arrangements trucks and making jokes about special chocolate sauce and happy deliverymen. To whomever sent that, I don't think anything else my family was given during that time frame brought us more genuine happiness during a time of absolute misery, so thank you very much.

Not so long ago, I saw that deliveryman again and took the opportunity to thank him. I don't think he remembered me, but when I told him that we still talk about how happy of a person he was and how he brought my family so much joy with our Edible Arrangement he smiled wider than I thought possible, even for him.

"Later Doesn't Always Come"

2011-01-28T11:46:00.000-05:00

This is a playlist off of Shane's ipod, entitled "Later Doesn't Always Come."

Starlight - Muse
Wildcat - Ratatat

Velvet - The Big Pink
Death is Certain Pt. 2 (It Hurts) - Royce da 5'9"
Ain't Nothing Like You - BlakRoc
When the Lights Go Out - The Black Keys

Click "Read More" to see the rest of the playlist.

Young Folks - Peter Bjorn and John
Scarecrow - Beck
Front Page - The Redwalls
Truth Doesn't Make a Noise - The White Stripes

Tears Dry on their Own - Amy Winehouse
Cut Here - The Cure
Not if You were the Last Junkie on Earth - The Dandy Warhols
Dance Epidemic - Electric Six
I Got It - Gorilla Zoe
Dominos - The Big Pink
The Denial Twist - The White Stripes
Bad News - Kanye West
Check Your Head - Buckcherry
Rocket Queen - Guns N' Roses
What You Do to Me - BlakRoc
Would You...? - Touch and Go
Universal Mind Control (UMC) - Common
Bohemian Like You - The Dandy Warhols
It's Alright - Guns N' Roses

Godless - The Dandy Warhols
Closer - Kings of Leon
I Buy the Drugs - Electric Six
Little Red Corvette - Prince
Lollipop - Framing Hanley
Dance Commander - Electric Six
About a Girl - Nirvana
Dead Flowers - The Rolling Stones
Two of the Lucky Ones - The Droge and Summers Blend
Sweet Talk - The Killers

Amazing - Kanye West
Rooster - Alice in Chains
Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd
So He Won't Break - The Black Keys
Like Toy Soldiers - Eminem
So Far From Your Weapon - The Dead Weather
Goin' Home - Dan Auerbach

The Dead Can't Testify

2011-01-28T06:54:00.000-05:00

I've always preferred to know things rather than not know things. At Christmas time, I searched the house until I found the presents. I hate surprises. I don't like having secrets kept from me. And I abhor liars. Mostly, I like the truth and I like knowledge. Facts are comforting.

So when the opportunity arises to learn, do I always take it? I thought I would have answered this question in the affirmative, but in actuality, it's in the negative.

I'm referring to going through Shane's belongings. His laptop and his phone are sitting directly across from me. But every time I pick either one of them up, I feel like a snoop. Like I'm doing something wrong and am about to get punished. It's different than the feeling one gets when actually snooping and might get caught. This time, there's no one here to get upset. I know that, as much as I want him to, Shane just isn't going to walk into the room and catch me on his phone, asking me what the hell I'm doing and to get out of there.

Two days ago, I opened the laptop. There are no documents. The few pictures that the Army didn't wipe off of his hard drive are mostly joke photos taken from failblog. They give me a laugh but make me sad all at the same time because I remember Shane sending most of them to me before and laughing about them with him. Now I'm laughing by myself.

Yesterday, I turned on his phone. I didn't look through the pictures. I have no desire to read his text messages or his emails. Those are and will forever be private and none of my business. But I feel like if I delete anything, it's like I'm deleting a part of Shane. So I took his phone with me to school yesterday. I played one of his playlists entitled "Time to Die." It was mostly overly aggressive music, the majority of which I skipped because it started to make me feel angry. I kept his phone in my front pocket for the rest of the day. Throughout class, I would reach into my pocket and touch the phone, just to make sure that it hadn't somehow disappeared. And now it's sitting in front of me.

Being surrounded by relics of the dead is both disturbing and comforting. Leaving Shane's belongings around has the potential to make everything feel like some sort of creepy museum to his existence. Knowing that he cannot come to collect his things, it becomes clear that we keep everything out for ourselves, as if we need a reminder about Shane. I know that my parents and I don't need to be surrounded by Shane's things -- we don't run the risk of suddenly forgetting about him and we have 23 years of memories in our hearts. But what if we start to put him away? What if we tuck him into drawers and pack him away in boxes? What happens then? Do the memories start to fade? Will he start to forget about us, where ever he is? Will we start to move on? Probably not. But there's a fear that these things will happen.

I remember a conversation I had with Shane before he deployed. I don't know if he talked about the possibility of his death with my parents, I have a feeling that he didn't, but it was always a part of our conversation. I was always open to the possibility that Shane wouldn't come home. I started mourning his death the day he deployed. Maybe that sounds tragic, and as much as I was still blindsided by his death, preparing myself for the possibility of such a thing has helped me. When he would bring up the topic, I mostly struggled to not cry in front of Shane or show any sign of weakness. I did not know what he was feeling, but I could imagine that keeping thoughts of one's possibly impeding demise all bottled up wasn't healthy -- that it was scary and uncertain.

During one particular conversation, Shane said, "Bethie, if I die, I need you to promise me something."

Oh, dear God, I thought. What on earth is he going to ask me to do. "What's that," I asked.

"I need you to promise that if I die, you won't keep my Army medals in a box somewhere. Put them out so that people can see them, or just throw them away. Because I don't want that stuff to just be in a box where no one ever sees them. I want people to remember me and what I did, okay?"

"Okay, buddy. I promise."

Shane's actual medals just came back to us, and my parents and I have yet to decide what we're going to do with them. But a copy of his medals currently reside at my father's store in a display case for everyone to see, along with pictures of him. I hope that Shane would be happy with this.

That's the tricky thing about the dead. As much as they can tell us their wishes while they're living, after they're gone, we're on our own. I can't call Shane and ask him if how his medals are displayed is to his liking. We just have to hope that we're honoring him in the way he would have liked.

Drop the World

2011-01-20T08:55:00.000-05:00

Today "I got ice in my veins, blood in my eyes, hate in my heart, love in my mind. I see nights full of pain, days of the same. You keep the sunshine, save me the rain."

Shane really liked this song. I listen to it when I'm feeling weak, which is fairly often these days, and it makes me feel a little closer to him and a little bit better. So buddy, if you can hear this, it's for you.

Struggling

2011-01-20T08:52:00.001-05:00

It’s been very difficult for me to write lately. Every time I sit down to formulate some words into sentences, my mind seems to falter and the page remains blank.

I’ve been having a rough time lately. I think it’s because the fact that Shane isn’t coming back is starting to become real.

When I check Facebook, I see status updates about when other soldiers are coming home on leave or coming home from deployment, and they break my heart. “_____ will be home for good in 2 months!” “Picking up ____ from the airport tomorrow morning!” They’re wonderful things to be able to share. Much better than most of the dribble on Facebook (“insert overly descriptive recent medical problem here;” “insert mundane task there”). And a part of me is really and truly happy that someone is getting to come home. But there’s another part of my heart that absolutely breaks when I read things like that. Because my someone will never be coming home on leave. He will never be coming back after a deployment. He will never be leaving for a deployment, either, for that matter. There are a billion things that Shane will simply never do again. And that’s a really difficult fact to wrap my head around.

I know that it’s going to be a bittersweet time in my life when Shane’s platoon comes home from their deployment. On the one hand, I can’t wait to meet some of the men who have become like family to me. But on the other hand, I know that my brother should be among them when they return. And it will be devastating when he doesn’t return.

Wasn’t Shane a good enough soldier? Wasn’t he a good enough person? Yes, and yes. But unfortunately, how good someone is does not determine whether they live or die. Maybe that sort of stuff matters for the afterlife, but it doesn’t really seem to matter in the here and now. Shane is dead and the world is still brimming with terrible people who get to walk around and live their terrible lives without a second thought.

“No one ever said that life was fair,” is something that I grew up hearing. It was mostly in reference to me not getting what I wanted. I never paid much attention to the phrase then, but I do now. Things really aren’t fair. So then what’s the point? If you’re a hard worker, if you have a good character, if you have a clean conscience and your heart is in the right place, what does all of that get you if life can get taken away in but a mere moment? I don’t really have an answer to my question and I don’t think anyone else could give me a satisfactory answer, either at the moment. Mostly because I’m convinced that there isn’t one. And for the time being, that is fine.

I keep waking up every morning. I keep getting out of bed and showering and I’ve even started going to my classes and interacting with other human beings besides my parents and sometimes I catch myself having little moments where I’m happy. They never last long, sometimes less than a second. But they’re there. Yesterday I spoke with a dear friend on the phone and I laughed. We both did. I don’t remember about what, but I remember my stomach hurting because I had laughed with my entire body. At another point in the day, I received hugs from two of my other friends and remembered that people really care about me, which I sometimes forget, and I felt the love they had for me in their hearts and I hoped that my heart was giving off the same love for them.

And maybe those little moments are the point. I know that for some people who are lucky enough to have a happy disposition, those little moments might be long stretches of time in their lives. But for people like me, happiness isn’t a constant. Rather, it sneaks into my heart in quiet little moments when I’m not looking or expecting. Yesterday, I was lucky enough to have two of those little moments. Maybe I won’t have any today. But I’m going to stick those moments in my metaphorical pocket and hold onto them today, just in case I find myself asking what the point of everything is.

One Tough Week

2011-01-09T11:38:00.000-05:00

To be honest, last week was not easy. As I walked out of the house on Monday morning in the darkness of the early hours, my eyes turned upward in search of that special star. I couldn’t find it because the clouds were blanketing the sky.

So, off to school I went (papers still waiting to be read and graded) – really not sure if I was truly ready to be back. Again, the questions kept coming into my head – is it too soon, can I really do this, am I strong enough, am I being the best teacher I know how to be?

Once inside my building I hoped I had made the correct decision and then my kids (and former kids) came in, hour after hour, and in my heart, I knew I had made the best decision. You see, my students are never my students, they are always my kids. I have a passion for my subject matter, and I believe that passion will win.

Later I walk out of the building, again in darkness, and head off to return an item I purchased. To be honest – it was one heck of an ugly sweater, which I purchased in September. As I pass by a rack of clothing a top catches my eye. It looks like “Beth,” so I stop and find the correct size. Someone calls my name and tells me she is so sorry for my loss. Then with tears filling her eyes she tells me how she tried coming to the funeral home or funeral Mass, but couldn’t because all she could think of – what if that was one of her kids in the casket. And with that my heart stopped for a moment. What if? My jaw clenched and I just stared – and then I asked how her children were doing. And then she proceeded to tell me. Finally, I said I was weary, that I left my house twelve hours ago, and needed to get home. Yes, get home to my family, yes, go home to Kurt and Beth (and the Lola).

I called my dearest friend and vented to her. I thought I was over this, but all week it hung in the back of my mind just as that ugly sweater hung in my closet.

It wasn’t until Saturday night as Beth and I were talking – she under the freshly washed comforter and I on top, that I decided to share the story with her. Instead, this time I laughed and said – I believe that is now the number one thing not to say to someone. And we both laughed.

And then it made me think of Shane and how he could turn someone’s comments into a bit of laughter. So, thank you Shane for another one of your gifts as I continue to put, “one foot in front of the other.”

Peace and Love,

Always and Forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

"Reach Out and Touch Faith"

2011-01-05T10:03:00.000-05:00

Mama I'm Coming Home

2011-01-03T23:11:00.000-05:00

"Thank you for your service," I say to a soldier with a 101st Airborne patch on his arm as I walked out of security at the Nashville airport.

The soldier seems somewhat surprised that I spoke to him. He pauses for a minute, nodding his head, saying "Thank you for your support."

I never thanked Shane enough for his service and am grateful when I get the opportunity to thank a soldier, especially one from the 101st.

* * * * * *

"How are you doing today," the woman behind the counter asks as she scans the book I purchased to replace the one that I had left at a house to which I shall never return.

I sigh, debating on whether or not I should be honest or just smile and say that I am fine. I opt for the latter option.

"Did you have a good new years," I ask, for some reason feeling the need to continue conversation.

"Oh yeah, it was fine," she responds, "and you?"

"Well, actually, no. I really didn't have a good new years. And I'm also not fine today."

"Me neither." She lets out a slight laugh as she answers. "In fact," she continues, "2010 was the worst year of my life."

"Me, too."

"At least we have a new year then, right? We just both have to hope and know that things can only get better. Just be hopeful for the possibility of something better."

I sign my credit card receipt, collect my new belongings, and tell her that I hope she has a good day, genuinely meaning it. I walk to find my gate.

* * * * * *

I find a seat and look over to notice over 20 soldiers in ACUs, standing with the loved ones, hugging, crying, waiting to board a plane to Fort Benning. I sigh out loud. I remember what it was like to say goodbye to Shane. I am jealous of the families who have this opportunity to say "I love yous" and give hugs and kisses. I contemplate staying in my seat. I think about crying. I think about calling someone or reading my book. Instead, I pick myself up and walk down the terminal, everything still being too fresh.

* * * * * *

I sit on the plane next to a brace-faced high school girl. I make up a story in my head about her: her parents are divorced, she was visiting her father in Nashville and is now returning to Michigan, where she lives, where he mother will pick her up and take her back home, just in time for her to start class on Monday. During the flight, she takes out a copy of Things Fall Apart. I had to read that in high school and can now determine with a fair degree of certainty that she is in A.P. English. She manages to get through a chapter before putting it down.

During the flight, I think about Shane. I think about how he might be disappointed in me but also proud of me that I had finally realized what I should have known from the very beginning but couldn't see because of my grief. I think about my broken heart. I think about who caused it. I think about how we all are really the ones who break our own hearts, as we choose to allow people in or not. I think about coincidences and if they mean anything. I think about how my life has turned into one giant coincidence, from which I am constantly attempting to extract meaning. I think about how rare it is that I find any actual meaning. I read Player One: What is to Become of Us, by Douglas Coupland. And I read it slowly, savoring the words. I find it a coincidence that Coupland's narrator discusses coincidences throughout the novel. I wonder what my life would be like if I would have just become a writer and an English professor. I have no desire to go back to law school when I get back to Michigan. I have no desire for almost anything anymore. I attempt to listen to music but it all makes me sad so I just sit for a while, drinking Sprite and eating airplane cookies.

The plane lands. For some reason, the girl who had sat next to me in silence during the entire plane ride, like I prefer, begins to speak.

"Ohmygosh. I can't believe it. My flight has like, gotten delayed, like 3 different times. And now it's gotten changed again. And I'm just so tired of being on airplanes and in airports and having to talk to people on the phone about, like, connections. And all I want to do right now? Is to just be home, ya know?"

I don't respond at first, surprised that she had given so much information. "That all sounds very frustrating. And I, too, just want to be home."

"I just don't understand how I'm not home right now and how airports work. And I had to stay in a hotel last night and I just want my mom."

I look into the girl's eyes. I have a strong desire to hold her but instead begin to retrieve my bag from the overhead compartment.

"It's really tough being away from your mom. And I'm sorry that you had to stay in a hotel alone last night. If it makes you feel any better, I had to stay in a hotel alone last night, too. And even though I'm 26, I still missed my mom."

The girl gives me a weak smile, but it's still a smile.

I see a bright blue coat and a white bag with a stuffed animal in it and hand them to the girl without even asking if they are hers. She gives me a stronger smile at this. I stand in the aisle way so that she can get out of her seat and get off of the plane, even though I normally would have only been concerned with getting myself off of the plane. It's a small gesture but it's the best I can do for this girl who just wants to get home to her mother.

We exit the plane. I consider asking the girl if she'd like me to stay with her while she waits for her next connection, decide that would be creepy, and instead tell her that I hope she finds her way home soon. She says thank you and we part ways.

I make my way toward baggage claim, through the light tunnel, down the escalator, where I see my own mother and father waiting for me. It's not until I'm in their arms until I feel the sense of safety that I had attempted to find while traveling. And I know that I am home.

Video Documenting Shane's Funeral

2011-01-03T11:31:00.000-05:00

This video was created by Rick and documents the day of Shane's funeral, from the vantage point of the many local heroes who came out to support Shane and our family. Thank you so much, Rick, for being there that day, creating the video, and sharing it with us.

"Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant." Joan Didion

2011-01-01T19:51:00.000-05:00

Shane and I stayed at the Sheraton in Nashville last February and ate lunch in the restaurant. I had a Caesar salad and he had a bowl of beef barley soup. We both had Pepsis. Shane complained about the butter being cold as he buttered his bread. I took pictures of the light fixtures because I thought they were beautiful.

This evening, I ate dinner at the same restaurant alone. I had a Caesar salad and a Pepsi and one of the best steaks I've ever eaten. The bread was different and the butter was room temperature. The light fixtures that I thought were so beautiful have been changed. And I sat in a chair that would have been right behind the one Shane sat in last February, purely by coincidence. As I ate my meal, I imagined that Shane was sitting right behind me the entire time. I could almost hear the conversation that we had in February with one another. At one point I even reached behind me to touch the chair in which he would have sat.

Before finding myself unexpectedly in Nashville, I was in Fort Campbell the past few days and drove by Shane's old barracks. I remembered his building number. I had happened upon them accidentally. They are under construction right now, but my memories of being there with Shane flooded back to me and I needed to pull over to compose myself as I became overwhelmed with thoughts of Shane. I kept driving by the barracks, as if I expected Shane to come walking out at any second. Of course, he didn't, but the possibility seemed quite real in my mind.

I've been doing a lot of magical thinking lately. I keep telling myself that if I perform certain actions, go to certain places, that I will see Shane. That I will somehow be able to make him come back. Part of me knows this to be impossible. I am generally a logical person. I apply logic to all scenarios and I do so without thinking.

But there is another part of me that has developed. And that part defies logic in its entirety and thinks that Shane is still very much alive. Or that he can become alive again. I make up versions of my life in which Shane is still in Afghanistan, but that something has happened to the internet and phones and he cannot contact me. Other times, I imagine that a part of him is living on in a time loop in the past and that if I just recreate an event, I will see some former version of Shane.

As I ate my dinner tonight, I reflected on my magical thinking, wondering if it's healthy or unhealthy. I allow myself to think in such a way because Joan Didion did and even wrote a book about it. (Note: if you have not read The Year of Magical Thinking, I highly suggest it). I allow myself to think in such a way because it's comforting. Because it makes me feel like I'm not quite so alone. But there is a fear in the back of my head that allowing myself to engage in magical thinking means that I'm slowly losing my mind. That I am becoming delusional and am losing my grip on reality. But I suppose that it is this fear that keeps me clinging to sanity.

"Gifts" from Shane

2010-12-31T11:53:00.000-05:00

From my mom:

As I reflect during these days after the holidays, which were filled with so much love from family and friends, my mind keeps wandering back in time. It is after the holidays that this damp, dreariness creeps into my soul. Now I ask, what now? what am I supposed to do? is there a band aid big enough for this broken heart? Then I kick myself in the behind and just remember all the “gifts” that Shane has given to me and all those he loved.

When Shane came home in September for his mid tour deployment leave; it was a gift. Shane made sure that we all received our special day with him. My day was September 21^st and we went to the Detroit Zoo. It was an especially warm day and the animals were all lazy – just trying to stay cool. We stayed in the butterfly house and watched the beautiful array of colors floating by, it was magical. Then off to the polar bears, and again we watched magnificent mammals swim over our heads and the sun creating prism sprays on the walls. We went and grabbed lunch and then a little shopping for a couple of new t-shirts. I remember the salesgirl hitting on my son. And then I chuckled knowing how handsome he was and how proudly he stood. Even though Shane wasn’t tall, he truly stood out in the crowd – I know the Bushmasters gave him that gift.

And then September 25^th rolled around, it was Shane’s day to head back to Afghanistan. Ah, that drive to the airport – really no one knowing what to say or how to act, so we listened to music. Music was so important to Shane, and I wish I could remember what songs were playing. We arrived at the airport and no one wanted to get out of the Jeep, but Shane got out and reached for his bags. I remember going to the counter at Delta. I don’t know if all airlines offer military escorts, but we were able to go to the gate with Shane. I gave the clerk my driver’s license as she asked Shane where he was going. He told her, “back to Afghanistan, ma’am,” and she looked me in the eyes. Yep, she must have been a mother because she knew, she knew what only a mother can feel at a time like that. She told Shane she would keep him in her prayers and then I noticed the tears glistening in her eyes.

So, now we are at the gate – just sitting and waiting. And Shane gave me another gift. Shane looked me in the eyes and said, “Mammy, let’s go get a Coke.” So, just the two of us went in search of a Coke. You see, in my world – it has to be a Coke. Shane “converted” to Pepsi while in college, but we shared a Coke. I remember walking to the counter with a Coke and a small bag of sourdough pretzels; the clerk gave Shane his military discount. And then we walked back – arm in arm, and I actually had a smile on my face because my heart was so full. I will never forget that very last face-to-face, “Love you, Mammy!” and my last, “Love you bunches and bunches, Buddy!”

And when the going gets tough – I cherish the words Shane told his father. Kurt once asked Shane, how do you do it? how do you keep going? how, when you are so tired or thirsty or hungry? how do you keep going? Shane’s response, so simple, but powerfully stated. “It is quite simple, Dad, you just put one foot in front of the other.” What a beautiful gift! A gift to help all of us on our damp, dreary days to mend our hearts and souls. One foot in front of the other!

Peace and Love,

Always and forever,

Shane’s mammy and Beth’s momma

Untitled.

2010-12-28T09:42:00.000-05:00

Well I survived Christmas. I didn't think that it would be as difficult as it was. I felt so much love during the time that I spent with my family and friends. And for some reason all of that love made everything that much more difficult. Maybe it's just because Shane wasn't here to feel it.

My mom and I were talking the other night about all of the wonderful people who have come into our lives since Shane's death. She said that, while we've met so many wonderful people, it's bittersweet because many of them we have only come into contact with because Shane is dead and he will never be able to share time with all of them.I guess that I choose to look at all of those people as gifts from Shane to help make things not quite so unbearable.

I think that with death, it's all about how your perspective on things. I could choose to stay in bed and mope all day and dwell on things that I cannot change. And some days I do that. But most days, I manage to make it out of bed, shower, and at least pretend to be a productive member of society. Sometimes I'm even happy. Because I know that what Shane wouldn't want is for everyone to sit around being sad all the time. So when I do get sad, I let the sadness linger for a few minutes. Sometimes I even cry. But then I make myself move on from it. Because I refuse to mourn for the rest of my life. I know that part of me will probably always be mourning Shane. And I know that I'll always miss him and that there's a hole in my heart that is never going to go away. But there's also enough love in my heart to keep the hole from seeming so big all the time.

S.W.A.T. Magazine

2010-12-28T08:24:00.000-05:00

A big My Fallen Soldier thank you to Tony Albaceli. In the upcoming February issue of S.W.A.T. magazine, on newsstands January 15, 2011, Mr. Albaceli pays tribute to Shane. Pick up your copy soon.

Merry Christmas

2010-12-25T09:42:00.000-05:00

From my family to yours, Merry Christmas!

As you might guess, I'm not a religious person. Neither was Shane, for that matter. So while today does not hold a great deal of significance for me as the birth of Jesus, it does hold significance in that it is a time to spend with family and friends.

Last night, we spent time with my dad's side of the family at one of my uncle's houses. We had great food, played board games, laughed, and hugged. It was a great night filled with lots of love. Today, we will spend time with my mom's side of the family and I'm sure there will be lots of love there as always.

I've always thought that family isn't just the one you're born into. But since Shane's death, this has held especially true. I was lucky enough to be born into a family that I actually like. Even though I only got to have him for 23 years, I had a brother who was one of my best friends. I have parents whom I can talk with about anything. And I have an extended family of aunts, uncles, and cousins whom I adore. But I was also lucky enough to go out into the world and make my own family. My parents can say what they want about how I might not be the best at picking boyfriends over the years, but I've managed to do a really great job at picking my friends. Or maybe they picked me. Either way, sometimes I get overwhelmed at how much I love my friends and how much they love me back.

One of my best friends gave up days out of her life and time away from her family to come and be with my family right after Shane was killed. She shepherded us into the shower when all we had done was sit around and mope. She made she that we ate. She made sure we were where we needed to be. She let me just sit and be quiet when I needed to, and made me laugh, and didn't make me go to the funeral home when I didn't want to. And she poured me a glass of wine or two when I needed it. I really don't know what we would have done without her around during those really difficult days. I know I'll never be able to adequately thank her for doing all of those things, except that she knows in her heart that I would do the same things for her in a minute. Luckily, I'll get to see her today.

I'll be with some of my other friends who have become family today, and I'm excited that they'll get to spend time with my "real" family as well.

So hold your loved ones close today. Let them know that you love them, because you never know when it's going to be the last time. Laugh. Smile. Eat too much. Don't drink too much. And while you're sitting with your families, please remember the brave men and women who are sacrificing time with their loved ones so that the rest of us can be safe and sound.

Last Christmas Eve

2010-12-24T07:25:00.000-05:00

Well, Buddy, it's going to be a rough next 48 hours. I've been awake for a little bit, just laying in bed, thinking about last year and trying to remember a time line of events for everything that happened exactly a year ago today. And I just don't remember. We went to Aunt Lori's house for dinner, I remember that. But I don't remember what we did all day on Christmas Eve. I'm assuming that we were at Mom and Dad's. That maybe you and Dad ate summer sausage sandwiches for lunch. That we played with Lola. We probably watched some bad TV. You probably were online for awhile. But that's all I can remember, and those memories are just vague assumptions of what we might have done. I don't remember specific conversations.

What I do remember is being really happy on Christmas Eve at our aunt and uncle's. I remember playing Beatles Rock Band with our cousins. I remember singing and it being horrible. Looking over at you and laughing because it was so bad but everyone was having a good time so it didn't matter. Calling you "special boy." Playing ping pong. Laughing some more. Hugging everyone. I remember wearing gold snakeskin Mary Jane shoes that pinched my feet. I remember driving back toward Detroit. Trying to find a Taco Bell that was opened. Stopping at over half a dozen Taco Bells, only to discover that all of them were closed. Me being so mad at myself because I couldn't find you the one thing that you wanted at the moment. Calling A and asking her if she knew where an open Taco Bell might be. Her telling us that Dearborn was our logical best bet. Meeting her at the Dearborn Taco Bell. That one being closed, too. Realizing it must be a corporate decision to close all Taco Bells on Christmas Eve. Going to Ram's Horn in Dearborn, but not the Bellagio one. You and I both having Buffalo Chicken Caesar Salads. A having a garden salad with ranch and all of us sharing french fries. Having a perfect meal, even though it wasn't the Taco Bell that you wanted. Me being really happy that you finally met A, when you usually never agreed to meet my friends. Making you and A take a picture with me in the Ram's Horn, even though you both are funny about having your pictures taken, and both of you appeasing me. The busboy who took the photo being slightly annoyed at my request.

And Buddy, I can't remember anything else after we took that picture. I know we would have gotten into our respective cars and A would've driven us to the expressway since we had driven around Dearborn and didn't know where we really were because it was night. I'm sure we listened to music in the car. I'm sure we probably talked for a while when we got home, or maybe watched a movie. But I can't remember.

That's how all of my memories about you are getting. Holey. I remember bits and pieces when I want to remember entire days, entire conversations. Maybe it's because I didn't realize that those were going to be some of my "lasts" with you. That was our last Christmas Eve. We were really friends, Buddy. We were. And last Christmas Eve really reminds me of that. I know not everyone could be with a sibling for that long and just get along and not fight and have actual things to talk about. We listened to an old R. Kelly song when we were driving through Detroit and both laughed about it but mostly liked that we were listening to it. Thank you for all of my memories with you, Buddy. Thank you for letting me have a picture with you that night. I miss you so much that it physically hurts. I never knew that I loved you so much until you were gone. And I don't know I'm capable of ever loving anyone more than I love you.

Fix You

2010-12-21T21:50:00.000-05:00

I wish I knew what this song meant to you. It drives me insane that I don't know. Maybe I don't want to know. I hate Chris Martin's voice and think that Eric sang the song a million times better than he did. I don't understand why Coldplay is famous, really, because I dislike Chris Martin's voice that much. Maybe you didn't like Coldplay, maybe you just liked this one particular song. Sometimes I think that Mom must not have heard you correctly, that you must have wanted a different song played at your funeral. I look for meaning in the lyrics that will connect the song to you, but I can't find anything. Maybe it's because the part of you that connected to this song is a part of you that I didn't know. At least, that's what I've decided in my head.

"Fix You," by Coldplay.

When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

Tears stream down on your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down on your face
And on your face I...

Tears stream down on your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down on your face
And on your face I...

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

A Letter to Shane

2010-12-21T20:58:00.000-05:00

Hi Buddy,

I just finished watching the first season of Rescue Me. Now I know why you liked it so much. The characters are all real people and they have lots of problems with imperfect lives, just like the rest of us, but maybe with more drinking on the show. Maybe not, depending on whose lives we're talking about.

I went shopping today for Mom and Dad's Christmas presents and I kind of pretended that you were with me today, but that maybe you just kept leaving the room that I was in a few seconds before I entered. You helped me pick out some good stuff, though, and I think Mom and Dad will like what we got for them. It was tough going Christmas shopping without you. I really wish you would have been there but I understand why you couldn't be. I guess that you were with me in spirit and that's what mattered.

There are so many things that I wish I could tell you right now. Sometimes I feel like I'm walking around all filled up with secrets that I can only tell to you. And I guess I could write them to you in a letter or talk to you before I go to bed at night or something, but it's just not the same. I know that I'm surrounded by a bunch of people who love and care about me, but it's just not the same without you here. You knew me better than I knew myself most days, and I just want to talk to you and have you tell me things I might already know in my heart but am too afraid to admit to myself.

Christmas is coming. I've been told that the holidays are going to be pretty rough from some reputable sources who have gone through things like this. Even if you were alive, you wouldn't be here, you'd be in Afghanistan. So maybe it won't be such a big deal. But that's probably just me kidding myself.

I don't know where you are. Maybe you're nowhere. Maybe you're everywhere. I guess that I'm just trying to say that today was a rough day and that I miss you a lot right now.

I love you, buddy.

FFBS.

Donations Update

2010-12-21T10:35:00.000-05:00

Just letting everyone know that we heard from the guys and they received their boots and Under Armour, just in time for Christmas and the cold Afghanistan winter weather! They're thankful and happy to have new gear.

So if you're one of the many people who have generously donated, from my family to yours, thank you very much. You've helped make a soldier's life a little bit better while he is busy keeping the rest of us safe.

If you haven't donated but read this blog, please consider making a donation. Any amount is appreciated and put to good use. Everyone can manage to spare a few (or many) dollars by not buying a pack of cigarettes or a beer at the bar or a Starbucks coffee.

Shane's Last Christmas Present to Beth

2010-12-19T15:17:00.000-05:00

The following was written by my mom, Kitty:

Shane’s Last Christmas Present to Beth

I have started and stopped this write so many times, but I am compelled to write about last Christmas. It was just a year ago that Shane and I went shopping for his Christmas present to Beth. Never in a million years would I ever allow myself to imagine that would be the last Christmas present he would ever purchase. As a mother, I built this protective wall for my children that I felt would never be shattered.

I knew that this was a special moment because Shane asked me to go shopping with him for the perfect gift for Beth. It had been quite awhile since Shane had asked me to go shopping with him because he preferred shopping with his sister.

Shane wanted to purchase a gift that would not wear out or be out of fashion, but something that Beth would always have to remind her of how much love they shared.

So off we went – headed out to the mall. While driving to the mall we talked about life and music. We talked about his new life at Fort Campbell and what it would be like to be part of the legacy of the 101^st Airborne Division. We talked about The Black Keys, Eminem, and Beck.

By the time we had arrived at the mall, Shane had decided he was going to purchase a necklace or ring for Beth. I never realized how many independent jewelry stores were in the mall, let alone the jewelry departments in the anchor stores. Yet, we managed to go to every store that carried fine jewelry – just to end up back at the first store and the very first showcase that Shane peered into.

I remember perusing the showcases with Shane – a time or two pointing out a piece of jewelry, just to have him shake his head no. Most of the time, I would pretend to look into the showcases, but all the while keeping my eyes on Shane. I would embrace the intensity of his search, his search for the perfect gift.

We stopped and had lunch before he made his final decision. Again, talking about music and family and his passionate commitment to being Soldier.

Finally, we returned to that very first showcase. I remember Shane examining the ring he selected, holding it up to look at it from all angles. It is a ring that screamed – buy me, I am the perfect gift for Beth. It is a citrine ring with black and white enamel. It is not modern or antique, but it has “Beth” written all over it.

But it is more than just a ring; it is the last Christmas present that Shane ever purchased. It is one of the endearing reminders of Shane. It is a gift from the heart, a gift between a brother and sister. A gift of love that will help us over the sad and painful days.

My husband and I have been truly blest to be able to say that Elizabeth is our daughter and that Shane is/was our son. As parents, are always grateful for the love of each of our children.

Peace-

Beth’s momma and Shane’s mammy

Alternate Ways to Donate

2010-12-19T11:57:00.000-05:00

My family and I truly appreciate the donations that we have received and the men who benefit from those donations are even more grateful.

If you are interested in a more personal way to donate that would involve contact with an actual soldier, please consider adopting a soldier from Adopt a US Soldier. From their website:

Thousands of miles away from home, many in combat zones, our soldiers need our support. You have no idea how treasured a single letter is! Adopt A US Soldier is dedicated to connecting supporters of our troops, just like you, with deployed soldiers the world over.

Staffed fully by volunteers, AAUSS has helped thousands of soldiers find friendship, support, and a much loved and much needed touch of home.
Adopt A US Soldier is active in over 100 Countries and has thousands of active volunteers supporting our troops by adopting one soldier, two soldiers, or even an entire platoon. Feel free to look around and see how you can get involved and easily adopt your own soldier. There are many other ways to get involved as well.

If you are considering adopting a soldier, know that:

Adopting a soldier is easy to do, won't take up much of your time, and there is not much financial obligation beyond the price of some stamps. You don't need to feel obligated to send gifts or packages, although they would be greatly appreciated by your soldier, A simple letter, even just once each week, means the entire world to our troops.

If you have further questions, read here.

6 Men out of the 101st Killed by Suicide Bomber

2010-12-19T11:42:00.000-05:00

Please keep the families and friends of the following brave men in your thoughts:

Sgt. Willie A. McLawhorn, Jr.

Spc. Derek T. Simonetta

Cpl. Sean M. Collins

Spc. Kenneth E. Necochea, Jr.

Spc. Jorge E. Villacis

Spc. Patrick D. Deans

These 6 men were killed in the Kahdahar Province, Afghanistan on December 12. They were all based out of Fort Campbell and out of the 101st Airborne, serving in the 2nd Batallion, 502nd Infantry Division. They leave behind fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, wives, and children. They were killed by a suicide bomber while building a new base.

From The Long War Journal:

A Taliban suicide bomber killed six US soldiers and two Afghan troops in a suicide attack today that targeted a newly established outpost in a region of Kandahar known as the "heart of darkness." The Taliban claimed it carried out the attack.

The suicide bomber detonated a minibus packed with explosives at the gate of a small combat outpost manned by US and Afghan troops in the town of Sangsar in the district of Zhari in Kandahar province. The suicide bomber was able to get past Afghan soldiers who were manning the outer perimeter.

The blast leveled the wall of a mud-brick home where the US and Afghan troops were building a new base in the village, according to The New York Times. The building collapsed on the soldiers, killing them and wounding more than a dozen US and Afghan troops.

The Taliban claimed the attack on its website, Voice of Jihad. The Taliban said that the suicide bomber, who was identified as Ahmadullah, detonated more than two tons of explosives as the US and Afghan troops were fortifying their positions.

The attack was carried out by the Mullah Dadullah Mahaz, or Mullah Dadullah Front, a wing of the Taliban in the south that is closest to al Qaeda, a US intelligence official told The Long War Journal. The Mullah Dadullah Front is led by none other than Mullah Adbul Qayoum Zakir, the former Guantanamo Bay detainee who has since been promoted as the Taliban's top military commander. On Dec. 4, Coalition and Afghan special operations troops captured a senior Mullah Dadullah Front financier and weapons facilitator.

Today's suicide attack is the third such bombing in Kandahar in two days. Also today, a suicide bomber wounded eight Afghan troops after detonating his car bomb in Jalai. Yesterday, a suicide bomber wounded five policemen and a civilian in an attack in Kandahar city.

ISAF has launched major operations over the past several months in the Taliban stronghold districts of Arghandab, Panjwai, and Zhari. Prior to these operations, the Taliban had been in full control of these districts for the past several years.

ISAF believes that the operations, combined with its targeted campaign against mid- and top-level Taliban leaders, have put the Taliban in the south in disarray.

The Taliban have suffered heavy losses in a series of special operations nationwide. Over the past six months, more than 600 Taliban and allied terrorist groups' leaders have been killed or captured, 2,000 fighters have been killed, and another 4,100 have been captured [see LWJ report, Special operations forces deal blows to Taliban ranks].

Please visit this article on the New York Times to read more.

Lux Aeterna

2010-12-19T10:16:00.000-05:00

This is one of the most beautiful and haunting pieces of music I think I've ever heard -- "Lux Aeterna" (Latin for "the eternal light") composed by Clint Mansell. It's from the film Requiem for a Dream, adapted from Hubert Selby, Jr.'s novel by the same name. The book is difficult to read and the movie is difficult to watch. I went through a phase where I tried to watch the most disturbing movies I could find. At the time, I was having incredibly graphic nightmares, and while I now look back and realize that the films I watch probably just contributed to the images in my brain while I slept, I was trying to prove that other people had thought of terrible things, too, and the movies were evidence of this.

Requiem for a Dream appears to be about drug addicts, but it's more about the human condition, how warped a conception of the American Dream can become, and how our desires for feeling, for a connection of any kind, often leave us completely and utterly alone. The last scene of the film includes a very graphic sex scene, but is also one of the most beautiful pieces of film I've ever seen. The first time I watched it, I forgot to keep breathing because I was so captivated with what I was seeing, tears streaming down my face, my mouth partially agape as the film finally came to its end. It finds all four of the main characters alone, in the fetal position, having finally succumbed to their demons and delusions.

When Shane and I were both living at home, I came home from school one day to find him in the TV room.

"I watched this movie today," he said, holding up the case to Requiem for a Dream.

"Oh yeah," I replied, "And what did you think?"

"It was pretty fucking sick. But ... it was good."

"You liked it?"

"I'm not gonna want to watch it every day, but yeah, I liked it."

I don't know why particular vignettes stick out in my memory. Why I remember that particular 30 seconds of my life but forget others entirely. Maybe it's because Shane and I didn't always agree on what movie to watch or what was good or what was bad.

Shortly after he was killed, I was going through his iTunes library on his home computer, and I found multiple versions of Clint Mansell's "Lux Aeterna." It was a connection that I had with Shane that I never knew about until after his death, the sort of thing that makes me both happy and sad all at the same time.

I had a nightmare last night. It was the kind where I feel like I haven't been breathing the entire time I've been asleep, my whole body is frozen and I can only open my eyes before regaining control of my limbs, which are all on pins and needles. I sucked in a gasp of air and while I did so thought about Shane, telling myself to not be afraid of some images in my mind when I know the nightmares that he has and lives are much worse, somehow forgetting that he was dead. By the time I exhaled I had succeeded in reminding myself of the events of the past 45 days. Right now, I've come to hate the moments where I fool myself into thinking that Shane is still alive, but just deployed, and that he'll be home in about 4-5 months. During the few couple weeks of Shane's death, I loved these moments. They made the rest of the day a little bit more bearable, knowing that I would have a brother who is alive and well for a few seconds each morning. But now, they're cruel little jokes that my mind plays on me, a nightmare in and of themselves.

Puzzle Pieces

2010-12-17T15:01:00.000-05:00

I went to the mall today to do a small amount of Christmas shopping that couldn't be done online. I'm not doing much shopping to begin with this year. My brother has been dead for 41 days. The lives of my family members and myself have been forever changed because of his death, and it's just a little difficult to get into the Christmas spirit.

But I went to the mall. It was a mall that Shane and I had gone to when he was home on leave. We had to leave after about 10 minutes because the mall is very open and he didn't feel safe. It was something that I will probably never understand because I have never been in a war zone. I've never had anyone shoot a gun at me. I've never had to look for cover. I've never had to think about the possibility of a hidden sniper. But Shane had, and even though we were in America, we had to leave the mall. I thought about that the entire time I was in the mall. I thought about how dangerous a place it would be if something bad were happening. Too much glass, nothing to hide behind, too many people, not enough exits, too many variables.

I did my shopping. I eavesdropped on conversations. I stood in long lines. I was surrounded by normal people with normal lives and I was jealous of them. Yes, everyone has their own story. Everyone has tragic events in their lives. Fortunately, we aren't made to walk around wearing t-shirts that read "My Brother was Killed" or "I'm an Alcoholic Single Mother" or "When I was 10 I was Molested." So it's quite possible that everyone I was with while at the mall was also suffering through some sort of tragedy. Maybe they all were. But listening to such mundane conversations makes me feel as if they were all leading normal lives while I was being miserable. Maybe that's because today I chose to allow myself to feel miserable. Maybe that's what I needed. But going to the mall made me feel depressed and alone and gave me a sense of dread for the upcoming holidays.

One thing I'm not dreading is that one of the men with whom Shane went to Basic is coming to visit my family and myself over Christmas. I'm glad he's brave enough to come stay with us during a time when many might not want to be around us. I'm excited to meet him and hear stories about Shane; for him to bring with him another piece of Shane.

I find pieces of Shane in so many different people and places. It's as if I'm building a puzzle that I cannot see. I have no idea how big the puzzle is or how many pieces it contains and I probably never will. But people keep bringing me pieces and the puzzle is gradually becoming more complete. When it's done, I will know Shane better than if he had lived to be 100, because I will know parts of him that he never would have shared with me in life. Of course, I'd rather have him alive. But since I cannot, I will continue to accept the pieces of Shane that everyone so generously gives to me. And it will be enough.

A Gay Soldier's Letter, Written Before He Deployed to Afghanistan

2010-12-17T14:29:00.000-05:00

A couple of months ago in my 14th Amendment course, we discussed "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" and my professor asked me what actual soldiers in the Army thought of the policy. (I have the privilege of going to a law school where my professors care about us as human beings and take the time to get to know us). I had actually discussed the issue of gays in the military with Shane on a couple prior occasions. I told my professor that I could not speak for all soldiers, but that Shane had said he didn't have a problem serving with gay men. He had told me that he knew some of the men he served with or went to Basic with were gay, and so did the Army, and no one really cared. Shane said that just as long as they could shoot, they were fine by him.

Shane was always a pretty open minded person. And even though we grew up in a small town where most everyone looks and acts the same way, someone's sexual orientation wasn't something that mattered to Shane.

I can't imagine what it has to be like to be a soldier. And I further can't imagine what it has to be like to be a solider who is forced to hide his or her identity.

I read this letter written by a gay soldier before he deployed to Afghanistan on Jezebel and thought it was very well written and poignant and gave me a slightly higher level of understanding on how "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" affects actual soldiers. I understand that this policy incites arguments and, like many constitutional issues, is a topic on which reasonable minds may differ. I do not mean to offend anyone with post, but merely wanted to present a point of view that many of us would not normally be privy to.

I'm writing letters to my loved ones in case I don't return from Afghanistan. I hope my partner never has to open his. If he does, it will ask him to tell who I was, because I couldn't.

I was a teenager when my brother came home with an American flag draped over his coffin, so I understand the fragility of life and the dangers of serving. And the additional burden of Don't Ask, Don't Tell is one I choose to carry. I volunteered for deployment, and I continue to serve. It's my deepest core value, whatever the cost.

The silence is the hardest part. I listen intently as my fellow soldiers talk about facing the reality of leaving their loved ones for a year and all the life events that will be missed. I don't talk about my own experience at all, because it's easier to come across as cold and removed than to risk slipping and mentioning that my loved one is of the same gender. For all I know, there are other gay soldiers in my unit, ones who understand what I'm going through. My gay friends in civilian life are supportive, but they don't often understand the military or soldiering. That camouflage is another burden I carry as I prepare to leave.

It's also difficult knowing that this policy is nothing more than politics. I try not to think too much about DADT and how destructive it is to peoples' lives, to military units, readiness, and to the progression of our country to a better place. But when I do let myself think about these things, I seethe with anger.

I am angry at the politicians who have for several years talked the talk on the policy, heightening the awareness of homosexuality among military personnel, and then done little to nothing to actually change it. We gay soldiers are the ones who suffer but can't openly participate in the debate.

I am angry at certain senators -– John McCain comes to mind –- who have obviously lost touch with any understanding of the current generation of service men and women, who, as we all know, support repeal at overwhelming numbers. They hide behind a vitriolic rhetoric fraught with illogical arguments and innuendo, smothered by their obvious fear.

And so we wait to see what the Senate will do. In the meantime, I have to remind myself to look elsewhere for comfort, to remember the courage of people like Dan Choi and his consistent devotion to changing this policy, at a very personal cost. Or Katie Miller, who made public at West Point who she really is, but would seek return the moment the policy is overturned. I also remind myself of the moral courage of Secretary Gates and Admiral Mullen, thankful that some at the highest level of military leadership get it even as others call our plight a "distraction."

And I'm reminded of the moral courage of my partner, who encourages me everyday to continue to put on that uniform; who believes that some things are worthy of our energies; who quietly plods along and prepares for my deployment as I do the same. I know as a soldier, it is the people we leave behind who bear the real brunt of deployment, who hold it all together, who send the care packages and pray for our returns. He'll have to do it on his own though. There are no support groups for the gay partners left back home.

In the meantime, gay soldiers who are still serving in silence will continue to put on our rucksacks and do what our country asks of us –- and wait.

Untitled.

2010-12-15T17:25:00.000-05:00

I was rereading some of my old messages with Shane and wanted to share this one from back in June.

To: Elizabeth Reifert
From: Shane Reifert
Date: June 24, 2010
Time: 2:46 p.m.

So I'm guessing you're pretty busy lately which is a good thing for you. You're always happier when you have just a little too much on your plate. I'm probably going to be out of touch for a little bit, we'll see. Its 2300 here, I can't sleep. I'm noticing its becoming a bit of a problem for 2 reasons. One, I simply need my sleep, and two, its the fastest time that passes here.

A memory resurfaced today. Me and you going to get a hot n ready from little caesars back at mom and dad's. I miss the simple times, and I think if I let myself I'd probably tear up typing that. I think its funny what we retain. But I do miss that kind of stuff, especially because then we'd usually watch a movie or do something together.

A different time.

My souls getting heavy. I think I'm telling you this because you know what its like to be weighed down on the inside. I love you Bethie.

To: Shane Reifert
From: Elizabeth Reifert
Date: June 24, 2010
Time: 2:56 p.m.

hey buddy,

it says that you're online but i don't think that you really are. i'm at work right now, reading about sex offenders. gwoss.

i was going to message you last night but my internet was down. we had a really bad storm.

i do know what it's like to be weighed down on the inside. you just have to remember that no matter how much you feel as if you are underneath a rock, eventually it will get better. you have to believe that, otherwise it's like the nothing in the neverending story.

i wish i had something to make you sleep. i'd send you some sleepy pills but i know you aren't allowed to have them.

you'll be home to have bad pizza with me soon enough.

i love you, shane michael.

Basic Training and My European Vacation

2010-12-14T11:00:00.000-05:00

The day after Shane left for Basic, I left for Europe. I flew alone to The Netherlands and I could barely say "hello" in Dutch. I went to visit a dear friend. I went to runaway from something I could not escape. I went to prove something to myself.

So I drank too much on a couple occasions, came down with a terrible cold, had my first energy drink, made some good/bad decisions, fought with my friend, spent a day walking around Amsterdam by myself, saw a woman touch one of VanGogh's self portraits, was moved to tears at the sight of a Rembrant I never imagined I would see anywhere but in a book, listened to conversations that I didn't understand, was left alone with my thoughts, took the wrong bus multiple times, ate a raw beef sandwich, bought European clothing and shoes, had the Dutch tell me their thoughts on President Obama and America, watched baseball games, and learned a lot about myself.

It was everything I needed and didn't need all at the same time. I was selfish. I left my parents alone. I left myself, too, in a way. I wanted to avoid who I was and what Shane joining the Army would make me. I realize that now. I didn't realize any of it at the time.

And while I was doing all of those things, while I was dancing in a nightclub, sweaty and intoxicated from too many bodies around me and too many draft Heinekens, the beat of the music pulsating through my body, Shane was going through his own version of hell. He told me about the first night at Basic. How they were all on a bus and driven into Fort Benning in the dead of night and how the drill sergeants stood at all exits of the bus with bright lights, screaming for the recruits to get off of the bus. But the problem, of course, was that they were blocking all of the exits. So none of the recruits could move. They just got screamed at. When they finally were allowed to get off of the bus, they had to sit on cold metal benches, with their feet both even on the ground and their hands on their laps with their backs straight. For hours. And I got to dance and have a hangover in the morning. I think about that often and I find myself feeling guilty because of it. I also know that it's because Shane and so many other men sat on a bus and were screamed at and deprived of sleep and had to sit on a cold metal bench in silence for hours on end that I was allowed to dance and have a hangover the next morning.

At the time, I was angry at Shane for being one of those men. For making me run away to Europe and try to avoid the unavoidable. Now, I couldn't be more proud and more grateful that he was.

The Last Christmas Present

2010-12-13T19:18:00.000-05:00

The things that remind me of Shane always seem to surprise me. Yes, I think about him almost every minute of the day in one way or another. There are photographs of him all over where I live and I can't speak to either of my parents without thinking of him. Almost all music reminds me of him in one way or another. None of these things ever creep up on me; they're expected and so I deal with the emotions that they bring accordingly.

It's the unexpected things that manage to take my breath away and choke me up. Today, I drove down Woodward Ave., passing the Detroit Artists Market. I drive past DAM at least a couple times a week. But today was the first day that there was snow on the ground. So it wasn't until today that I remembered that Shane and I had done Christmas shopping there for our parents last year. Shane and I visited the Market on a day much like today. Slush in the streets, a gray sky, biting cold air. I remember that I conscientiously didn't put enough money in the meter and left a ticket to chance. We spent about an hour in the Market, walking around, looking at all the art, most of which we couldn't afford. We purchased a handblown glass vase for our mother. We verbalized to one another that it was perfect for her because it was in shades of blue and reminded us of the water. And for our father, we got a painting of a lone wolf with its back to the viewer, staring off into the distance. Shane made a joke about a wolf pack and The Hangover, but from the amount of time that he spent looking at the painting, I know that there was a lot more going on behind his selection.

After picking out gifts for our parents, I took our selections to the desk and realized that Shane wasn't with me. I went back onto the main floor of the Market, finding Shane staring, contemplating, at a photograph. It's entitled "Extraordinary Light" and was taken in Michigan Central Station. The photographer printed the photo on metallic paper, so it has an aged, almost magical quality to it. It's a beautiful photograph that I will not attempt to further describe with words because there are simply things that do not translate between mediums. I didn't say anything to Shane at first, instead watching him stare at the photograph. At the time in December 2009, Shane rarely did things like this. He didn't take quiet moments for himself to reflect, and I knew that I was lucky to be getting to see him like this. That was probably one of the last times I saw him like that -- contemplative, thoughtful, lost in his head. When I look back on it now, I feel like I stole a little piece of him that day. He didn't know how long I was standing behind him. Maybe a few minutes passed, but it felt like much longer. I asked him if he was ready to go and he said yes.

I returned the next day and purchased "Extraordinary Light" for him. That was my last Christmas present to my brother, and I just now realized that. I'm looking at the photograph right now. It resides on top of a chest of drawers in my bedroom, across from my bed. It's one of the first things I see when I wake up in the morning and one of the last I see when I go to sleep at night. Shane was supposed to take it with him to Fort Campbell, but he left it at home, claiming that it would only get damaged with moving around. And he was probably right. So I ended up keeping his last Christmas present for safekeeping, until he would return from his deployment.

And I suppose that I will continue to hold on to it for safekeeping. That's one of the only pieces of comfort I take from Shane being killed in action. For me, I think he will always be deployed. He will never age and we will never grow apart. We just won't have spoken for awhile because, in my mind, I can allow him to just be out on a mission, unable to write or call. Maybe that's all the afterlife is, just not speaking to the ones we love for an extended period of time. Maybe they're always there, always right around a corner, just out of earshot. Maybe they're in our dreams, residing in that thin veil between reality and the unknown. I suppose that, for right now, while the rest of us are still living, they can live where ever we imagine them. Every time I look at photographs from Afghanistan, I imagine that Shane has somehow evaded the camera. That he is right outside of the frame, with his brothers, in his uniform, slightly slouched, making a half smile or grimacing his eyebrows, depending upon his mood. That's where Shane lives for me.

ACTS Match; Donations Update

2010-12-12T08:43:00.000-05:00

From my dad:

"Home from an amazing day spent with 60+ motivated shooters that showed up to support the PFC Shane M. Reifert Memorial ACTS Match. Thanks to all who came out to support this cause. This match was to support Shane's brothers of the 2nd Platoon, Bravo Co. 1/327 1BCT 101st ABN Bushmasters!

Thanks to USMC Veteran Jon Cross and Barb Stockford, Navy Mom, and all the fine folks that helped to make this match happen!"

My dad was truly impressed with everyone who showed up and all of the money that was raised.

DONATIONS UPDATE:
Shipments of top quality all-terrain boots were sent off to Shane's brothers. We ordered them each a pair of Asolo TPS 520 GV hiking boots from REI.

They will also be receiving sets of Under Armour to protect them from the upcoming cold winter weather in Afghanistan. We're hoping that these things will reach them before Christmas, but it's tough to tell how long it will take for everything to get to them.

I am privileged to communicate with some of Shane's brothers in Bravo Company online. They are humble, kind, gracious men. They never ask for anything; there's never anything that they want or need, even though I tell them that, legally, the money we have raised cannot be spent on anyone but them. I'm sure it cannot be easy for them to contact my family and me, but they do. They check in and ask if we're doing okay and genuinely care about my response. They are planning trips to Michigan to visit after they come home from deployment. I'm honored that they spend some of their precious time speaking with me, when they could be speaking with family or friends instead. Each one of them holds a special place in my heart and I'm glad that I am able to get to know them. I'm even more glad that we're able to help them.

OPERATION BULLDOG:
If anyone is interested in seeing some of the men with whom Shane fought, please watch this YouTube video of Operation Bulldog.

Signs

2010-12-12T08:16:00.000-05:00

"What you have to ask yourself is what kind of person are you? Are you the kind that sees signs, sees miracles? Or do you believe that people just get lucky? Or, look at the question this way. Is it possible that there are no coincidences?"

-- Signs

Pearl Harbor

2010-12-07T11:24:00.000-05:00

Today is the 69th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor. Please take a moment out of your day to remember those who died in the attack and the many others who were left with holes in their hearts as a result of the attack.

If you're interested in learning more, National Geographic has a comprehensive page dedicated to Pearl Harbor.

Thank you to everyone who died on that fateful day 69 years ago. Thank you to those who keep their memories alive.