tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67978366179806259642023-11-16T11:13:09.393-05:00My Fallen Soldier: In Memory of PFC Shane ReifertPlease scroll down and click the "Donate" button on the right side of the screen if you wish to provide a donation, 100% of which will support Shane's brothers-in-arms who are still fighting.ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.comBlogger133125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-63060480706671321062020-12-01T22:59:00.000-05:002020-12-01T22:59:21.646-05:00Finish Saving the World<p>Who'd've thought you'd be dead ten whole years? Well, probably logical, rational people. But when it comes to you, those things don't always apply. </p><p>I really thought you were going to come back by now. </p><p>Logically, rationally, I know that's impossible. I saw your body. I saw you in the casket. I even touched you, just to make sure. And we visit you at the cemetery. You. Are. Dead. I know this as a fact. </p><p>But there's this part of me that also thinks there's a chance you could come back. In the way where maybe this is some sort of extended dream and I'll wake up and you'll be fine. In the way where you're undead because of an experiment the military did on you. In the way where this was all an elaborate government coverup and you've been away for ten whole years on a very top secret mission saving the world, and part of that world saving involved us having to think that you were dead. And as soon as you're finished saving the world, you're going to come back.</p><p>Those aren't real, though. They're cognitive distortions. My brain lying to itself. And even knowing that they're cognitive distortions, I still keep them. I still hold onto them. </p><p>Because that's kind of all that's left. I don't get to make more memories with you. The ones I have are it and I can't get anymore. So I keep the cognitive distortions. I continue to think magically. I keep waiting for you to come back. And I don't think I'm ever going to stop. So hurry up and finish saving the world.</p>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-13769497234866093732013-10-01T22:29:00.004-04:002013-10-01T22:29:59.269-04:00I Just Want To Have One More Car Ride With You<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">"...and maybe if we drive fast enough the universe will lose track of us and forget to stick us somewhere else."</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Sheffield, Rob. </span><i style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Love Is A Mixtape.</i>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-65260858844718589562013-03-16T14:30:00.001-04:002013-03-16T14:30:16.289-04:00In Memorium<div style="text-align: justify;">
Keeping the memory of the dead alive is exhausting. It involves constantly revisiting the past and trying not to get stuck there while simultaneously not allowing yourself to go too far into the future, or even the present, because that means you're moving in the opposite direction of the memories you're desperately trying to hold on to, of the person that you're trying to hold on to.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Shane, I remember you everyday. I remember phrases you used to say and how you used a fork and knife and chewed your food and the things that scared you the most when you were a kid and what you smelled like and the last time I ever saw your living face and your dead face. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I remember days, conversations, feelings that are stuck in photographs. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I even remember things that never happened; I remember your future for you and what you would be doing right now and the kind of uncle you would be and the stories you would and wouldn't tell about Afghanistan. I remember conversations that we never had and trips that we planned and fights that we would have and advice that you would give me and your wedding and your first child and what you would look like with gray hair and everything else. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There is a corner in my mind that I cleaned up and decorated how I thought that you would like and put you there for safekeeping so that nothing ever happens to you or my memories of you. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I write pieces of memories down in little notebooks and post-its and scraps of paper so that I can prevent them -- prevent you -- from disappearing altogether. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But how long will it last? Paper disintegrates and gets lost. At some point I will likely get lost in my own mind and not be able to find my way back out, like everyone else does when they are at the end of their lives. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And what happens to you then? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There will be a point in history where no one remembers you. No one knows who you are. No one has memories of you. One day dad will die, mom will die, I will die. Every single person who keeps a memory of you in their minds or hearts will die, and we will take you with us. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There are some places where there are stones and on those stones are inscriptions of your name with the dates you were born and died. And that will be all that is left. Names and dates on stones, and nothing more.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-42606935352611130302012-11-05T21:53:00.000-05:002012-11-05T21:53:51.704-05:00If only...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">As I reflect upon my life
over the last two years, I find myself wondering</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">If only… </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">If only, one step to the left…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">If only, one step to the right…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">If only, one drop of the
shoulder…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">If only, one turn to the
left…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">If only, one turn to the
right…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">If only…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">If only, doesn’t have an
answer...</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Instead, I am left to make
my way through this new life. I must venture into this new world of darkness
and light – stumbling, drifting, falling, and picking myself back up again and
again. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I am truly grateful for the
love and support of my family and friends. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thank you for the gentle words
and expressions of love</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">As I continue to “put one
foot in front of the other.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Peace-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Always and forever,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s
Momma</span></div>
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ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-30080866816976238202012-09-09T01:11:00.001-04:002012-09-09T01:11:36.457-04:00Next Time, Bury Me With YouI want to drag the weight of my body to the cemetery.<br />
Past the highways.<br />
Past the fast food restaurants.<br />
Past people who don't know any better and who don't see me anyways. <br />
<br />
I want to feel ashphalt ripping through the fabric of my clothes.<br />
Ripping through to my skin.<br />
Leaving a trail of tiny blood marks behind me.<br />
<br />
I want to reach your headstone.<br />
Your grave.<br />
The place where your body lies. <br />
I will rise my bruised and battered body to my knees.<br />
And I will dig.<br />
<br />
I will take my bare hands, mangled from my journey,<br />
And I will begin to claw.<br />
I will rip through the carefully manicured grass until I feel dirt.<br />
And I will not stop clawing<br />
<br />
Until my fingernails have detached from my flesh<br />
And leave nothing but dirt-ridden sores.<br />
Until I reach the wooden box that holds your corpse,<br />
The one that was chosen because it was warmer than cold metal.<br />
<br />
Though bruised and bloody and exhausted,<br />
I will open that box, that casket, that tomb<br />
And I will crawl in with you,<br />
Next to your rotted, decaying body<br />
Trapped in a meaningless uniform<br />
With meaningless medals,<br />
Marking you as a stranger.<br />
<br />
I will lie next to your body<br />
And I will cradle your flesh,<br />
Staring into the night sky,<br />
Finally able to rest.<br />
<br />ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-73495368154639986982012-08-27T23:32:00.000-04:002012-08-27T23:39:16.133-04:00Another Gift...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Recently, we visited Great Lakes National Cemetery
as a family. Kurt and Beth humor me with my cemetery rituals – always enter the
cemetery with the 80s music playing, a visit to Shane’s gravesite, which
includes flowers, poetry, music, conversation, and lastly, a Coke and sourdough
pretzels. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Then a drive around the
cemetery to view the nature. The cemetery is located on over 500 acres with a
small lake; it is truly a beautiful resting place for the veterans. And then I
spotted the swans – they were far off, but I wanted to capture another photo of
the swans and their not so tiny cygnets. Kurt stopped the car, and I ventured
through the tall grass and weeds. After taking a photo or two, we stopped once
more at Shane’s gravesite.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">It wasn’t until later that
I had an opportunity to put the photographs on my computer. I could not believe
my eyes when I zoomed in on the photo. The swans are fairly well hidden amongst
all the trees, but there, on a fallen branch, is a turtle. Yes, a turtle! </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">This little turtle put
such a smile on my face because of a silly video on youtube entitled, “Zombie
Kid Likes Turtles.” The video has over 37,000,000 million views since being
posted in 2007. A young boy with a freshly painted zombie face is asked by
reporter what he thinks about his face paint. The boy’s response is, “I like
turtles.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">And with that, “I like
turtles” was a response commonly heard in the Reifert household no matter what
was the posed question. Just when I thought I would no longer hear that
response, it would pop up again. Thus, turtles became another connection to
Beth and Shane. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Gifts with a turtle theme
always have a special meaning and are not given lightly. Recently, Beth gave me
a turtle charm, which I will wear on a necklace. And if I close my eyes tightly
enough, I can still hear Shane say, “I like turtles.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">So, little turtle on the
fallen branch, were you there for a reason? To put a smile on my face? To help
mend a broken heart? To bring fond memories to the front? Or quite simply –
Shane being Shane and bearing another gift?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">As I continue to “put one
foot in front of the other.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Peace-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Always and forever,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s
Momma</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-61967474817774536482012-07-31T09:09:00.000-04:002012-07-31T12:07:26.502-04:00Because of Shane...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV3gCzxa2zHn1fj1vgL0fieTPvcVsuG26ljEFfY-6lmJiIOaSfxVDC6VytIfzftgwXA9nmSxwA0iOPPGIZuXP1tTIkJZJd9adnNfuYW2Hy9sNmkqR40kDopOiGW4GFjFlskbycTDJqPJ66/s1600/Flags+%282%29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV3gCzxa2zHn1fj1vgL0fieTPvcVsuG26ljEFfY-6lmJiIOaSfxVDC6VytIfzftgwXA9nmSxwA0iOPPGIZuXP1tTIkJZJd9adnNfuYW2Hy9sNmkqR40kDopOiGW4GFjFlskbycTDJqPJ66/s320/Flags+%282%29.jpg" width="285" /></a></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">So many
days and nights, I still struggle with Shane’s death. Why? Why was such a truly
honorable and noble soul taken in the prime of his life? It is one of those
questions that will never ever be truly answered. So, I search deep into the
core of my very being and attempt to find an answer, an attempt to find some
peace, some guidance, some consolation, some healing. And then I close my eyes
and three men come into view.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">SFC Garrett Williams</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">SFC Stacy Price</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">BG Darrell Williams</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">I know each
of these men because of Shane. Actually, Kurt, Beth, and I all know these three
men, but I can only approach this post from my perspective.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">SFC
Williams was Shane’s recruiter, SFC Price was our Casualty Assistance Officer
(CAO), and BG Williams represented the Army for Shane’s funeral Mass and presentation
of the United States flag at
Great Lakes National Cemetery.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Each man
holds a very special place in my heart. I have decided to write about each of
these men as they came into my life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Garrett was
Shane’s recruiter. Shane started talking to Garrett in the spring of 2009. Shane
was so fortunate to have Garrett as his recruiter. Garrett took Shane under his
wings and offered Shane the contract that he was looking for. And with that
genuine concern and care for Shane (he was just not another “recruit” on his
quota board); Garrett became part of my life. I first met Garrett at the
recruiting office when we dropped off Shane to go to Military Entrance
Processing Station (MEPS). This was the first of my many good byes to Shane
during his time in the Army. I tried with all my strength not to cry, but I
could not hold back my tears. Kurt, Beth, and I each said our good byes and the
best of luck. And with that Shane was driven to MEPS and then the next day
placed on a plane to Ft Benning for One Station Unit Training (OSUT) for his
basic combat training and advanced individual training. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Now, I am
sure for most families that is the last they heard from the recruiter, but that
was not the case with Garrett. I remember it took me a couple of months to find
the right words to craft a thank you note to Garrett, but it took me that long
to truly mean the words that I had written. I am not sure if I adopted Garrett
into the family or if he adopted himself into the family, but it was just that
simple. Garrett has a remarkable rapport with Kurt, Beth, and me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">And when
Shane was killed, Garrett was right there for us. I still remember Garrett
coming to the funeral home, on his day off, to offer support when we were
planning Shane’s funeral. Garrett was the perfect buffer during a painful
experience. When we planned the prayer service at the funeral home, we
immediately thought of Garrett to speak during the service. My cousin, Sister
Mary, led the prayer portion, and Garrett spoke of the Shane that he knew – the
young recruit with so much promise and potential. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Garrett
continues to be part of my family. Presently, Garrett is no longer stateside;
instead, he is in a godforsaken country. I knew and will know again, that
Garrett is someone I could call any hour of the day or night and tell him that
I needed his help, and he would be there. Occasionally, Garrett has use of the
internet, so we are able to still chat. I worry about Garrett as much as I
worried about Shane – that is how special Garrett is to me. I miss seeing that
charming smile. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Stacy
entered my life because of Shane being killed. We were Stacy’s first family as
a CAO. Poor Stacy, we were such a mess, our entire world had just been turned
upside down and inside out. Yet, there was and still is Stacy. Stacy has an
endearing quality about him, which must explain all the patience he has with my
endless list of questions. It was Stacy who made all the arrangements for us to
fly to Dover to witness Shane’s body returning stateside, not only did Stacy
make the arrangements, but was with us the entire time. It was Stacy who made
sure everything went smoothly when Shane’s body was flown to Michigan at Selfridge Air National Guard. It
was Stacy who walked us through the mountains and mountains of paperwork. It
was Stacy who painfully delivered Shane’s medals. It was Stacy who delivered
Shane’s belongings. It was Stacy who had me sign off as all medals, awards,
belongings, reports, more reports, and even more reports had finally finished
coming. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">By all
accounts, Stacy no longer needs to stay in contact with Kurt, Beth, or me, but
we still call and message one another. I remember one day hearing some news
that was terribly upsetting. I called Stacy during my prep period and talking
(let’s be honest, it wasn’t talking, it was plain old bitching). He let me vent
and rant. I will never forget that phone call. I took almost an hour out of his
busy schedule, but never once did I hear him sigh or complain. We share a joke
about “crabby pants.” Some days I wear them and other days Stacy wears them. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">I first saw
BG Williams as he entered Holy
Cross Church;
he has a presence about him that demands respect. I happened to catch him out
of the corner of my eye. I closely watched him as he made his way through the
crowd to the front of the church. To be totally honest, I had decided I was not
going to like this man. I thought, well, here is a general who never met Shane
and would get up and go blah, blah, blah. I will be the first to admit that I
was totally wrong about BG Williams. When he spoke at the funeral Mass, he
spoke from the heart. He had done his research and spoke about Shane in truest
form. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">At the
funeral luncheon, I intensely watched the general and Beth deep in
conversation. I have no idea what they were talking about, but I could tell
from the expressions on each of their faces that it was an exchange of ideas.
Then the following day at Great
Lakes National Cemetery, BG Williams spoke again, but
this time he had another duty. BG Williams presented the United States
flag to me with sincere and genuine sympathy in his eyes. It is a flag that I
wish we did not own, but we do. The flag rests in a special box in our living
room. Every once in awhile, I will open the case and touch the flag, and I can
still see the look in BG Williams’ eyes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Before the
general left, he gave me his business card, but included his personal cell
phone number. Now, that was one class act. I remember calling the general to
wish him all the best for the holiday season. And with that one telephone call,
we truly became friends. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Recently,
we were invited to BG Williams Change of Command Ceremony. Beth and I were able
to attend. It was such a privilege to meet the general’s lovely family.
Actually, Beth and I were treated as family during the ceremony. BG Williams
took time out of his speech to mention Shane and my family. We were so humbled.
I wish BG Williams all the best with his new position. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Putting the
words to paper has helped ease my sorrow a bit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">SFC Garrett
Williams, SFC Stacy Price, and BG Darrell Williams – thank you for your
service, thank you for your commitment, thank you for your sense of duty and
honor, thank you for being a part of my life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">As I
continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Peace-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Always and
forever,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Shane’s
Mammy and Beth’s Momma</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-40518061986774470252012-07-20T23:00:00.000-04:002012-07-20T23:00:36.064-04:00What's in a Name?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“What’s in a name? That
which we call a rose</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">By any other name would
smell as sweet.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Romeo and Juliet</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial;"> (2. 2. 1-2)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The summer months have
allowed my mind to travel down memory lane. I remember the excitement and joy
when I discovered I was pregnant with each of my children. I did not want to
know the sex of the babies, for me, it was like peeking early at Christmas
presents. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I remember when Beth was
born and wanting our daughter to have a strong name. Kurt and I easily agreed
upon Elizabeth Mary. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Ah, then when I became
pregnant the second time, we could not as easily agree upon a name for a boy. I
remember wanting to name the baby John Michael. Kurt thought there were too
many Johns already in my family. In hindsight Kurt was right, my godfather and
one of my brothers share the name. So, we mutually agreed upon Shane Michael,
which is an Irish form of John.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxWt40MEITlt1atZBUM8egn2Cs7mlLhn75K6XLuLxkj_ROJbs738p-0AAbfEgDKVtWrEAPraAxshsqOhyzexqIAw1xrazyqg7OW8e-szg4Y0ON08hVgdD0T0yTIjOB0DU2OIPz52LwSfA/s1600/Beth+and+Shane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxWt40MEITlt1atZBUM8egn2Cs7mlLhn75K6XLuLxkj_ROJbs738p-0AAbfEgDKVtWrEAPraAxshsqOhyzexqIAw1xrazyqg7OW8e-szg4Y0ON08hVgdD0T0yTIjOB0DU2OIPz52LwSfA/s320/Beth+and+Shane.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">No one in either Kurt’s or
my family had the name Shane. My family has a fairly strong tradition of naming
children after someone in the family. This little baby seemed to fit the name.
I remember holding him in the hospital thinking, no, knowing, we had selected
the right name. And that was that, whether I called him Shane or Shane Michael,
it was just a-okay.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I remember the day Shane was
baptized, and Fr Ron saying Shane’s name. Again, I knew this was a perfect
match. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbJa4CGPVVjTA4rwAT9QAK85oFLehuyav-XcZE2jnCATITBMt4VI3DxDt7TIv60eHwpZ-5WAZ27DyFMXezoSH6I8ks-I9ZgaMV31PjdUv4lkMVWXqkNhzCpChWoS3ebP8f9Sz7TQZM5DL9/s1600/Baptism.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbJa4CGPVVjTA4rwAT9QAK85oFLehuyav-XcZE2jnCATITBMt4VI3DxDt7TIv60eHwpZ-5WAZ27DyFMXezoSH6I8ks-I9ZgaMV31PjdUv4lkMVWXqkNhzCpChWoS3ebP8f9Sz7TQZM5DL9/s320/Baptism.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">When Shane joined the Army,
I wondered if anyone knew or cared enough to know Shane’s first name. It was
always, Reifert this or Reifert that. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And then I realized I was
sadly mistaken when Shane deployed to Afghanistan with his Bushmaster
Brothers. Ah, this Bushmaster Brotherhood, something I still grasp to fully
comprehend. I have come to the conclusion that only the men of Bravo Company
fully understand this brotherhood.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Previously, I posted about
visiting Fort Campbell and meeting Shane’s
brothers-in-arms. It was an afternoon filled with laughter, tears, and
storytelling. I remember meeting Chris, who was there with his wife and son. I
remember meeting Zack who was a bit on the quiet side. Both men were so polite
and respectful. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">A little over a year ago,
Chris welcomed his second son into his family. A little over five months ago,
Zack welcomed his son into his family. Both Chris and Zack named their sons,
Shane. Ah, for much different reasons than Kurt or I ever had in naming Shane. Kurt,
Beth and I are honored and humbled. Oh, this brotherhood of the Bushmasters
continues to truly amaze me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Oh, Juliet, I must beg to
differ with you. Juliet dismisses Romeo’s name as a mere meaningless
convention. Mr. Shakespeare, you got it all wrong, especially when it comes to
the name, Shane.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I wish each family many
years of love and happiness with their Shane.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And now I know the answer to
my question, that Reifert’s Bushmaster Brothers know his first name.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">As I continue to “put one
foot in front of the other.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Peace-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Always and forever,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s
Momma</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-11989207664002084512012-06-18T00:17:00.000-04:002012-06-18T00:17:05.220-04:00The Brutality and the Beauty<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Earlier in the week, I
headed off to Great Lakes
National Cemetery
with Jane (Shane’s godmother) and two of Shane’s cousins, Jillian and Jack.
Jane was kind enough to drive; I was still weary from a very trying year of
teaching. My mood perfectly matched the weather – gloomy. It was overcast; and,
at times, rain came from the sky.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">My mood improved as I caught
up chatting with Jane, Jillian, and Jack. Jillian is getting married in a
couple of weeks, and Jack recently graduated from college. The Kronners had
already purchased their flowers to place at Shane’s grave, but I still needed
to purchase my flowers. We stopped and I made my purchase; I tried avoiding the
raindrops, but they kept finding me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">When we arrived at Great Lakes, the rain finally ceased. As we entered the
cemetery, I noticed that all the flags were flying, which meant that there was
a funeral scheduled for that day. As we were placing the flowers, we could hear
the 21-gun salute. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And then the brutality of
our visit hit me to the core. Never in a million years did I ever think I would
be standing over Shane’s grave. I never believed that life would be this cruel.
The four of us shed tears and a few stories. We shared a Coke and sourdough
pretzels – that is one of my rituals at the cemetery. I can close my eyes and
remember the very last time Shane and I shared a Coke and sourdough pretzels. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYZNAdOY5H161VbohRAQRhbMKv8bNLL9JiwcApYgmRdW9IH_JjcE9yy_BGbyrG1xfZaQTBUlNRHVriFzzf1R8AWaq9PFSpYI311UJj0vsqHM5nnZK8bYSl1usOdTj7p2m8np_6XkWKMfBK/s1600/06-11-12A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYZNAdOY5H161VbohRAQRhbMKv8bNLL9JiwcApYgmRdW9IH_JjcE9yy_BGbyrG1xfZaQTBUlNRHVriFzzf1R8AWaq9PFSpYI311UJj0vsqHM5nnZK8bYSl1usOdTj7p2m8np_6XkWKMfBK/s320/06-11-12A.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">As we drove around the small
lake at the cemetery, I noticed two swans in the farthest corner of the lake. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh2oJU6XDncbzt-STwPjwj06eMUVMWeyXcDxHbZN7jNkDl5t7p9Efvjcf2kSyRRW5nG2WjuUGX01NtPlTTjO400T-c6SSSG2kI4vqxKiD2jDU33jlT0RtMz_xZ8tySfXmCJGGjYoby4J7c/s1600/06-11-12E.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh2oJU6XDncbzt-STwPjwj06eMUVMWeyXcDxHbZN7jNkDl5t7p9Efvjcf2kSyRRW5nG2WjuUGX01NtPlTTjO400T-c6SSSG2kI4vqxKiD2jDU33jlT0RtMz_xZ8tySfXmCJGGjYoby4J7c/s320/06-11-12E.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">When we finally made our way around, we noticed that there were not only the
two swans, but four cygnets looking for food. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I got out of the car and
quietly approached the swans. Their majestic beauty swooped over me with the
gift of peace. I inched closer and closer to the swans, not wanting them to
swim away or worse yet, attack me. I worked my way through the tall grass and
wild flowers. I watched in wonder and awe of the raw beauty of nature. Every
once in awhile one of the parents would look my way, but I think they sensed I
was not a threat. They allowed me to absorb the tranquility and peace. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCkYSx2BQpUG9ulgsL0_zFLqFl-hA34yM_Z3dYAGGLb9TK1XNqAGdlzH6xOaJCXAtCgXhm3oJxZ5zth3wm1sGstBScX3wInCJt0nHwbXvDCdjv6y9ssVL7YGOCaXFv061J_b1oFYZ8KVL/s1600/06-11-12B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCkYSx2BQpUG9ulgsL0_zFLqFl-hA34yM_Z3dYAGGLb9TK1XNqAGdlzH6xOaJCXAtCgXhm3oJxZ5zth3wm1sGstBScX3wInCJt0nHwbXvDCdjv6y9ssVL7YGOCaXFv061J_b1oFYZ8KVL/s320/06-11-12B.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I left the cemetery that day
with a deeper appreciation of nature – this thing called nature that helped
heal this broken heart.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">As I continue to “put one
foot in front of the other.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Peace-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Always and forever,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s
Momma</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-47167764465824827302012-05-26T22:24:00.000-04:002012-05-26T23:03:13.692-04:00Squirrels<br />
<span style="font-family: Bliss;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Squirrels, silly subject,
but one that has been one my mind. I have always loved the natural wonders
found in nature. When I was growing up, I used to have a squirrel that would
eat peanuts out of my hand. For a couple of summers, a grey squirrel would come
running down the street when I would make a silly clicking sound. He would take
the peanuts right out of my hand. He would crack open the shell and nibble away
on the peanuts. And then one summer, he stopped coming…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Occasionally, Beth and Shane
would make fun of me when I would talk about the birds and squirrels. Beth and
Shane were great at ganging up and picking on me – always in fun, always in
jest.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Our dog, Lola, does not like
squirrels. One of Lola’s favorite pastimes is to chase the squirrels right up
the tree, even though they are on the other side of the fence!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I still like to feed the
birds and squirrels. The feeders are right outside the kitchen window. We have
a wide variety of birds and critters that like to come and eat. This spring I
have been watching one momma squirrel in particular. She has a routine about
her feeding schedule, almost as if she can tell time. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Last week I watched as she
came down the maple tree. The tree is magnificent in size, offering shade for
much of the house. The bark is old and worn, just like the side of a weathered
barn. The branches are heavy with green leaves and whirlybird seeds. As she
approached the bottom of the tree, she stopped and checked for Lola. When she
realized the coast was clear, she touched the earth. There she sat and ate her
dinner. And then I noticed a baby squirrel coming down the tree. Oh, this put
such a smile on my face. There was the momma and her baby eating. The baby
still wanted to nurse, so the momma squirrel would be patient for one or two
sips before she would move to gather her next nut. I know it is so silly, but
this simple act of a mother’s love for her baby put tears in my eyes and a
smile on my face. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The next day two more baby
squirrels were feeding under the tree. Now, there are three baby squirrels that
eat under the tree. I have been placing extra food out for the baby squirrels. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">You see, I have been placing
extra food because the momma squirrel is no longer coming down the tree. She
has stopped coming…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The momma squirrel was
killed when attempting to cross the road. I scooped up the squirrel so no other
cars would run over her and properly disposed of her body. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Poor babies, poor momma
squirrel. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I wonder if those baby
squirrels are missing their momma. For some odd reason this has made me miss
Shane even more. I did not know that was possible, but it has.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">As I continue to “put one
foot in front of the next.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Peace-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Always and forever,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s
Momma</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-34422626577486005662012-05-04T23:36:00.000-04:002012-05-04T23:36:52.240-04:00Burn My Shadow<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Awhile back I purchased this
song on iTunes; it is without a doubt the most haunting song I have ever heard.
I printed out the lyrics to read as I listened to the song. Recently, I viewed
the music video, which has increased the disquieting effect on me. I don’t
particularly care for the musical arrangement, but the lyrics keep drawing me
in to listen to this song again and again. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">“Burn My Shadow”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">~ Unkle featuring Ian
Astbury</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I have burned my tomorrow<br />
And I stand inside today<br />
At the edge of the future<br />
And my dreams all fade away<br />
<br />
I have burned my tomorrows<br />
And I stand inside today<br />
At the edge of the future<br />
And my dreams all fade away<br />
<br />
And burn my shadow away<br />
And burn my shadow away<br />
<br />
Fate's my destroyer<br />
I was ambushed by the light<br />
And you judged me once for falling<br />
This wounded heart will rise<br />
<br />
And burn my shadow away<br />
And burn my shadow away<br />
<br />
An' I see the light, too light for love<br />
An' I see the light, too light for love<br />
An' I see the light, too light for love<br />
An' I see the light, too light for love<br />
<br />
An' I see the light, too light for love<br />
Burn my shadow<br />
An' I see the light, too light for love<br />
Oh...<br />
An' I see the light, too light for love<br />
Burn my shadow<br />
An' I see the light, too light for love<br />
Away<br />
<br />
And burn my shadow away<br />
And burn my shadow away<br />
Oh, how I loved you</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuRmfrGR_lyqiGiAKvxmLsgzprdkfc__3tvJ16ZMaAQEsC1ln1zUJZDc3HbJwhLjd883kYkP350wmoBZGLJ-N0kZcPIp9b4GEVSG2Pstxo6oXNhqsXRJyqjuBy5hOR5TEFvhH3t5AwtUnv/s1600/Burn+My+Shadow+A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuRmfrGR_lyqiGiAKvxmLsgzprdkfc__3tvJ16ZMaAQEsC1ln1zUJZDc3HbJwhLjd883kYkP350wmoBZGLJ-N0kZcPIp9b4GEVSG2Pstxo6oXNhqsXRJyqjuBy5hOR5TEFvhH3t5AwtUnv/s320/Burn+My+Shadow+A.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I desperately want to sit
down and talk to Shane about this song. He is, without a doubt, the one person who
would walk me through this song. We would discuss the various levels of the
lyrics, the angles, the approaches. We would have one of our philosophical
conversations. When the conversation was over, I would have a smile on my face.
An honest-to-goodness smile! A smile that warms the heart.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And then brutally wraps me
in a cloak of darkness. I will never have this conversation with Shane. I can
only play this conversation in my mind – just as I can only play the song. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I will close my eyes and
listen to the song and maybe, just maybe, I will gather the insight that I am
desperately looking for.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">As I continue to “put one
foot in front of the other.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Peace-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Always and forever,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s
Momma</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-81620574688079869682012-04-22T09:16:00.000-04:002012-04-22T09:16:13.262-04:00Spring Break<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Recently, I was invited to
speak to the Family Readiness Group (FRG) at Fort Campbell.
For those unfamiliar with the FRG, it is a group of family members, volunteers,
soldiers, and civilian employees who provide activities and support for
families during deployments. The FRG is also responsible to help families in
case of an injury or casualty. I thought long and hard before I accepted this
invitation – was I strong enough to speak to a group about Shane’s death? Was I
strong enough to travel by myself? Was I strong enough to revisit Fort Campbell?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">The speaking engagement was
scheduled during my spring break, which eventually swayed my mind to accept the
invitation. I already knew in my heart and mind, that this spring break would
be not the spring break of 2010. It was April of 2010 when I traveled to Nashville and had
wonderful experience with Shane before his deployment in May. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Most of Shane’s Bushmaster
Brothers were off “playing” in the mountains, preparing for their upcoming
deployment. Shane was so proud to be part of the legacy of the 101<sup>st</sup>
Airborne Division. He was even prouder to be part of the Bastogne Brigade
Combat Team which stands ready to deploy within 36 hours worldwide. I was
fortunate that a few of Shane’s brothers-in- arms were still on post. I
requested and was granted permission to have Thomas Kappler and Jordan Daniels
as my escorts. I had the privilege of meeting these honorable men back in
October when Kurt, Beth, and I visited the memorial at Fort Campbell.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">For some reason the Army
thought I needed to fly out on Thursday at 6:50 in the morning; even though, I
was not scheduled to speak until Friday morning. Actually, it worked out well
because I had the entire day to spend with Thomas and Jordan. These men were
always polite and respectful; after all, “honor and duty” is part of their
core. I was comforted seeing two familiar faces at the airport. We spent the
morning in Nashville,
which is a magnificent city. We had breakfast in the business district, which
was in full swing. Men and women in business suits, carrying briefcases and
coffees, were hustling to get to work on time. We ventured to the river, home
of entertainment area, which was quietly sleeping off a nasty hangover. The
smell of stale beer still lingered in the air. The afternoon was spent touring
the post and hearing stories of Shane, including a visit to the memorial. In
the evening, Jordan’s
wife and son joined us for dinner. It was a relaxing way to end the day.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpTWwoRqrcfTG-3btPOzKih7CbVyGrJi8-jFOpmtSZ-YnJ-ej19Let5Da6qZsYFzTjvZ5HUOtwyGKRnVAhGdFQgpvWrbsbBQdH9bMQc-wL9Fe1r2v8YvKDLGa18smAqWfARa-ShlBo5N9x/s1600/IMG_0591+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpTWwoRqrcfTG-3btPOzKih7CbVyGrJi8-jFOpmtSZ-YnJ-ej19Let5Da6qZsYFzTjvZ5HUOtwyGKRnVAhGdFQgpvWrbsbBQdH9bMQc-wL9Fe1r2v8YvKDLGa18smAqWfARa-ShlBo5N9x/s320/IMG_0591+%25282%2529.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">My escorts picked me up on
Friday morning to bring me on post for my talk. Oh yes, the talk - I still
hadn’t decided exactly what to say. I always get so nervous speaking in front
of people, so I like to have my ducks in order, but this was different. I
wasn’t quite sure from which angle I should approach my audience. And then I
remembered to just be me, and with that I decided to speak from the heart. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Ah, this broken heart, was it
going to be strong enough to guide me through my speaking engagement? I drew a
deep breath and thanked the group of volunteers for their time and personal
sacrifices. I let them know that it was 17 months to that very day that the
Reifert household was turned inside out and upside down. Not just the Reifert
household, but each and everyone who knew and loved Shane. I spoke about a
mother’s love for her son. I spoke about a father’s love for his son. I spoke
about a sister’s love for her brother and best friend. I spoke about grandparents;
aunts and uncles; cousins; friends; and brothers-in-arms love for Shane. I
spoke about a young man’s dream of serving his country; then, a man’s dream of
protecting his country. Finally, I spoke of a Soldier’s deep belief in fighting
to keep his brothers-in-arms safe. I expressed my views about what I
appreciated from the group and a few things I would like to see changed. I
closed with a few lines from John O’Donohue’s “Matins 2”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>May I live this day</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Compassionate of heart,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Clear in word,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Gracious in awareness,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Courageous in thought,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Generous in love.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">And when I was finished speaking,
I knew that Shane would be proud of his mother. I knew that I had made the
right decision in venturing to Fort
Campbell.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">After lunch with my escorts
and a few of the volunteers, the 1SGT’s wife asked me if I would come back to
the company headquarters. Karen said, that while neither she nor her husband
ever met Shane (this is a new position for the 1SGT), his name is always spoken
in the utmost respect. She took me to the Bushmaster’s back offices, where
there is photo after photo of Shane on the walls. I thanked her for sharing
this gift with me because it helped me grasp a tighter hold of this Bushmaster
Brotherhood.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">My trip to Fort Campbell
was made complete when I was able to meet up with the Loheide family. Matt and
Marianne recently welcomed their beautiful daughter, Bella, into the world.
Kurt, Beth, and I first met Marianne back in January of 2011 at the Eagle
Remembrance Ceremony. Marianne is one of good ones, always honest, always
compassionate, always caring. While Marianne and I may differ on favorite
sports teams, I gladly call her my friend.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">When the time came to venture
to the airport, Thomas and Jordan, allowed me to ramble on about Shane. I will
be forever grateful to these Bushmaster Brothers, who must make their own
mothers very proud. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">As I sat at the gate waiting
to board the plane, I reflected about my visit to Fort Campbell.
I fondly thought about the shenanigans of Thomas and Jordan. I closed my eyes
and thought, yes; Shane could have been part of the shenanigans. He would have
been part of the shenanigans, and maybe, just maybe, he was part of the
shenanigans. Oh, that part of the story is for another day…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">As I continue to “put one
foot in front of the other.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Peace-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Always and forever,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s
Momma</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-17168771250994405942012-02-12T10:02:00.000-05:002012-02-12T10:02:02.245-05:00Shane<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bangle Wide"; font-size: 11.0pt;">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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bangle Wide"; font-size: 11.0pt;">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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bangle Wide"; font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqydhIvFY-EI8g0Kugo0MFKG5Xs78RI3Nlo50rOIARHpeu_Y4o87mRWLy3KYKCyVcvEjraM02rdkV5wl2OXUKWu9zRrLat-KIQvvGgv7NwI0UqeC1njVZ4tMSG3MMJvOVlMLFyEVMhEIdI/s1600/P6300171_01+%283%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqydhIvFY-EI8g0Kugo0MFKG5Xs78RI3Nlo50rOIARHpeu_Y4o87mRWLy3KYKCyVcvEjraM02rdkV5wl2OXUKWu9zRrLat-KIQvvGgv7NwI0UqeC1njVZ4tMSG3MMJvOVlMLFyEVMhEIdI/s320/P6300171_01+%283%29.JPG" width="249" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Bangle Wide"; font-size: 11pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Bangle Wide"; font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "Bangle Wide"; font-size: 11.0pt;">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.</span> <div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bangle Wide"; font-size: 11.0pt;">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!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bangle Wide"; font-size: 11.0pt;">They say, “a picture is worth a thousand words,” but to me – this picture is a gift that cannot be measured in words.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bangle Wide"; font-size: 11.0pt;">As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bangle Wide"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Peace-</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bangle Wide"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Always and forever,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Bangle Wide"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-11506510392796550092012-02-05T11:38:00.000-05:002012-02-05T11:38:12.460-05:00Candy Wrappers<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Candy wrappers, silly subject, but they won’t leave my mind. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">When we were at Fort Campbell for our visit in the fall, we received some of Shane’s belongings. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Candy wrappers…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Candy wrappers…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">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!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br />
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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Candy wrappers…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Who would have ever guessed something that is so easily discarded could bring so many fond memories? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Yes, a bit of love and so much more.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Peace-</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Always and forever,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma</span></div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-43754045089119480452012-01-23T22:38:00.000-05:002012-01-23T22:38:51.914-05:00"This is our cry. This is our prayer. Peace on Earth." - translated from a plaque at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial<style>
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</style> <div class="MsoNormal">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. <span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.<span> </span>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.<span> </span>It was the sort of weather that happens only a few times a year in Michigan. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Hey Buddy. What’s up?</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Hey Bethie. </i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>What’s going on? </i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Nothing. Just packing. Hey – Johnson wants to know how to . . . </i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And I thought about Sadako Sasaki. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Her friends completed the task and buried the cranes with her. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So I went back to hanging my paper cranes. I never made one thousand of them. Never came close and never even tried. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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. </div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-25481383916743883282011-12-25T21:57:00.000-05:002011-12-25T21:57:29.800-05:00Black Olives<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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</style> <![endif]--><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Oh, and that other can of black olives was placed in my refrigerator.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Peace-</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Always and forever,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-51492077415137716052011-12-22T00:00:00.000-05:002011-12-22T00:00:42.246-05:00Monuments and Men<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWv0U44Ip7uwJjFfEgZBxAXpTNjcNVU1hzLnu_FhZJUK-xxPJDWj3-aBtnkSnnMj938QZ0tan6EzC7DU6-8r08ngrivFvx4SeWIQQNXIFiIOQJAfWVG2kziO9kCUNaOiJwIxcqk9v5XTGQ/s1600/Ensigna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWv0U44Ip7uwJjFfEgZBxAXpTNjcNVU1hzLnu_FhZJUK-xxPJDWj3-aBtnkSnnMj938QZ0tan6EzC7DU6-8r08ngrivFvx4SeWIQQNXIFiIOQJAfWVG2kziO9kCUNaOiJwIxcqk9v5XTGQ/s320/Ensigna.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">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?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7fJrycpfTpdeqCxepkiIPaz1CzRIlKbmIwPQXx19gKHqBNIN2RqYNv1fh_EvS66s4T7dBn3cBtV8B8_JSSNUvBcY3KZktAY9x-K0fkXzwa7Cz40nrUJQzEcD-Emq2fiASdcuoEW_UyA6/s1600/1+327+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7fJrycpfTpdeqCxepkiIPaz1CzRIlKbmIwPQXx19gKHqBNIN2RqYNv1fh_EvS66s4T7dBn3cBtV8B8_JSSNUvBcY3KZktAY9x-K0fkXzwa7Cz40nrUJQzEcD-Emq2fiASdcuoEW_UyA6/s320/1+327+%25282%2529.jpg" width="270" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> </span> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sean then took us to the site of the monuments for the fallen Soldiers of the 101<sup>st</sup> Airborne Division (Air Assault), 327<sup>th</sup> 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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-0kBfxo4pz1lLl4hr7xjQMCHQuXpR3BZgbrk_cWYds0qyqqQcVP8BPrFSL_nA2OH9DwaFJCeJaTsz9r9WtbNN2wGJ7ON6hqWczvSSWXAKmK3N35qsMwjMPL18jH-OEE_oie11rJidzjh3/s1600/Monument+Shane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-0kBfxo4pz1lLl4hr7xjQMCHQuXpR3BZgbrk_cWYds0qyqqQcVP8BPrFSL_nA2OH9DwaFJCeJaTsz9r9WtbNN2wGJ7ON6hqWczvSSWXAKmK3N35qsMwjMPL18jH-OEE_oie11rJidzjh3/s320/Monument+Shane.jpg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">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<sup>st</sup> Airborne Division, 1/327<sup>th</sup>, Bravo Company – those Bushmaster Brothers can understand.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Peace-</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Always and forever,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-51897340937371474472011-12-11T23:14:00.000-05:002011-12-11T23:14:50.211-05:00Wreaths Across America<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhogH8Q-5UqEil-zSHjt_6XZHJHn9JySjum8BU44eFAcGfEiAiUbuZIBAH2LtfAZhoAcs41CTFk74TH4zjJOAFWBUbftrX9varVIuoaw0RL9X1MOv631Nr4Oph7JK3dupXrJDXDhao2Ns2u/s1600/Wreaths+Across+America.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhogH8Q-5UqEil-zSHjt_6XZHJHn9JySjum8BU44eFAcGfEiAiUbuZIBAH2LtfAZhoAcs41CTFk74TH4zjJOAFWBUbftrX9varVIuoaw0RL9X1MOv631Nr4Oph7JK3dupXrJDXDhao2Ns2u/s320/Wreaths+Across+America.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">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). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">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 <i>To Bless the Space Between Us</i>. 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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“For Grief”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">~ John O’Donohue</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">When you lose someone you love,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Your life becomes strange,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The ground beneath you gets fragile,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Your thoughts make your eyes unsure;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And some dead echo drags your voice down</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Where words have no confidence.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Your heart has grown heavy with loss;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And though this loss has wounded others too,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">No one knows what has been taken from you</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">When the silence of absence deepens.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Flickers of guilt kindle regret</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">For all that was left unsaid or undone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">There are days when you wake up happy;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Again inside the fullness of life,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Until the moment breaks</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And you are thrown back </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Onto the black tide of loss.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Days when you have your heart back,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">You are able to function well</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Until in the middle of work or encounter,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Suddenly with no warning,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">You are ambushed by grief.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">It becomes hard to trust yourself.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">All you can depend on now is that</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sorrow will remain faithful to itself.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">More than you, it know its way</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And will find the right time</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">To pull and pull the rope of grief</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Until that coiled hill of tears </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Has reduced to its last drop.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Gradually, you will learn acquaintance</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">With the invisible form of your departed;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And when the work of grief is done,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The wound of loss will heal</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And you will have learned</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">To wean your eyes</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">From that gap in the air</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And be able to enter the hearth</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">In your soul where your loved one</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Has awaited your return</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">All the time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Peace-</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Always and forever,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-62662681920688720972011-11-11T05:38:00.001-05:002011-11-11T12:43:57.037-05:00Veterans Day<div class="MsoNormal">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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Always and forever,</div><div class="MsoNormal">Shane's Mammy and Beth's Momma</div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-75670081503865525962011-11-07T21:21:00.000-05:002011-11-07T21:21:15.241-05:00A Father's Tribute to his Son<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal;"> <span style="font-size: small;"><span class="messageBody translationEligibleUserMessage" data-ft="{"type":3}"><div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_4eb8903156cbf9434575698">He loved his family<br />
He was smart<br />
He read books<br />
He loved music<br />
He was quick witted with a very dry sense of humor<br />
<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show"> He was a very deep thinker<br />
He understood history<br />
He did not suffer fools<br />
He was a champion of the underdog<br />
He was loyal<br />
He was talented<br />
He was handsome<br />
He would never back down<br />
He took shit from no one<br />
He tried to improve himself every day<br />
He knew the meaning of duty and honor<br />
He was proud to wear the CIB<br />
He was proud to be a Screaming Eagle<br />
He was more proud to be a Bushmaster<br />
He loved the men he served with<br />
<br />
He was my son and I miss him so......................</span></div></span></span></h6>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-59854683419121018012011-11-06T08:12:00.000-05:002011-11-06T08:12:04.269-05:00How do you measure, measure a year?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg761hASSTvI1I5u7VLgDfhVOd4Oj3V1-mfBHM_ABgEFDgjScVQGGdjK0P_JsguaaPJY5-jdOSWH69LlI8lYwL81Oco25m9yFYqRHSZVb9sD_-aYR4ORLqark6OBt4z0r_JvFX4lYWpJmm/s1600/Shane+Thoughtful+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg761hASSTvI1I5u7VLgDfhVOd4Oj3V1-mfBHM_ABgEFDgjScVQGGdjK0P_JsguaaPJY5-jdOSWH69LlI8lYwL81Oco25m9yFYqRHSZVb9sD_-aYR4ORLqark6OBt4z0r_JvFX4lYWpJmm/s320/Shane+Thoughtful+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Sunday, November 06, 2011, has finally arrived.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I will cherish the memories of Shane.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I will still believe that there is still more good in the world than bad.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">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.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred moments so dear</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: Arial;">How do you measure, measure a year?</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">~ “Seasons of Love’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I will measure this year in sadness and love</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Peace-</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Always and forever,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-11641034529479911732011-10-27T11:01:00.000-04:002011-10-27T11:01:57.979-04:00Happy Birthday<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue;">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.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjLnxU6C8xAOBOf3DbVBXz5eF0p8kzHlHJ3mrwzyvZf8Uw5rP77CmoBEf566UK7jHAt2bBC7aGRRvGbZmfSZBzNgIz4lFs-I18QEkcPtg82VRHoNuWNe2JpjQ-KrlIFjR93iIbvgGN-uyw/s1600/Beth+and+Shane+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjLnxU6C8xAOBOf3DbVBXz5eF0p8kzHlHJ3mrwzyvZf8Uw5rP77CmoBEf566UK7jHAt2bBC7aGRRvGbZmfSZBzNgIz4lFs-I18QEkcPtg82VRHoNuWNe2JpjQ-KrlIFjR93iIbvgGN-uyw/s320/Beth+and+Shane+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> <div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue;">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. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue;">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.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue;">I do know this much – you touched so many lives, and we are all better human beings to have had you in our lives.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue;">Happy Birthday to you, my son, my Shane Michael, my Moe!!!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue;">I have kept my promise to you as I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue;">Peace-</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue;">Always and forever-</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: blue;">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma </div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-25202284819038302252011-10-09T12:30:00.000-04:002011-10-09T12:30:23.925-04:00The Season of Fall<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: Arial;">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. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: Arial;">Fall was Shane’s favorite season. Shane was born in October, and Halloween was his favorite holiday.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhup2ecrHBAW3yIdKw64ysgywo-MNMbEqqOIcaa_0KUpZXIdU0ovNE1KR4jzPKKkSPoMWPSSKg7PWk6MUVjBsf65n4TJxMmr5KBS_4VyWgKl-HqM7kFge5RW57wryrom0ustKtkRKBB_jf/s1600/Shane+1994+Fall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhup2ecrHBAW3yIdKw64ysgywo-MNMbEqqOIcaa_0KUpZXIdU0ovNE1KR4jzPKKkSPoMWPSSKg7PWk6MUVjBsf65n4TJxMmr5KBS_4VyWgKl-HqM7kFge5RW57wryrom0ustKtkRKBB_jf/s320/Shane+1994+Fall.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: Arial;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: Arial;">Shane is seven-years-old in the photo; the tree is as tall as ever, and it is still holding onto its green leaves.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: Arial;">This fall is difficult; it is trickier than I ever imagined </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: Arial;">Maybe it is the memories, maybe it is the change, or maybe, it is this thing called life</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: Arial;">As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: Arial;">Peace-</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: Arial;">Always and forever,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #ff6600; font-family: Arial;">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-38459994515074259702011-09-25T19:03:00.000-04:002011-09-25T19:03:02.850-04:00September 25, 2010<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">I am sitting here with a plastic bottle of Coke and a small bag of sourdough pretzels. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh78wQ8fcQJTNz85zW0KvQfqyB4ETL1r5ItZyzcAmI1Am-9ZABZ5DRn-3pJSbEyKjCGue9W8tQYuSxOtpByszO1Uh4nRaV-UhayZBEpcSWxDmMYWwXnLZyXP3br3BJcmAtSmPC4Nus_OV8a/s1600/IMG_0104+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh78wQ8fcQJTNz85zW0KvQfqyB4ETL1r5ItZyzcAmI1Am-9ZABZ5DRn-3pJSbEyKjCGue9W8tQYuSxOtpByszO1Uh4nRaV-UhayZBEpcSWxDmMYWwXnLZyXP3br3BJcmAtSmPC4Nus_OV8a/s320/IMG_0104+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Maybe that is the reason this swan was so gracious to “perform” for me. I hope so. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Peace-</div><div class="MsoNormal">Always and forever,</div><div class="MsoNormal">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma</div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797836617980625964.post-77097575017416125222011-09-21T21:27:00.000-04:002011-09-21T21:27:34.000-04:00The Detroit Zoo<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">One year ago today, Shane and I went to the Detroit Zoo as part of our special day</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I went to the Detroit Zoo this afternoon</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I went by myself, but I was not alone</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As always-</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">i carry your heart with me</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">i carry it in my heart</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">i am never without it</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><span> </span>~e.e. cummings</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">As I continue to “put one foot in front of the other.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Peace-</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Always and forever,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>ERhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04228042482403340005noreply@blogger.com3