Untitled.

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

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

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

Merry Christmas

From my family to yours, Merry Christmas!

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

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


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

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


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


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

Last Christmas Eve

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

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

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

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

A Letter to Shane

Hi Buddy,

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

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


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


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


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

I love you, buddy. 




FFBS.

Shane's Last Christmas Present to Beth

The following was written by my mom, Kitty: 

Shane’s Last Christmas Present to Beth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peace-

Beth’s momma and Shane’s mammy

Puzzle Pieces

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

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

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

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

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

The Last Christmas Present

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

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

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


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

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

How Can You Be In A Bad Mood When Someone Says "Woo-Hoo"? -- QVC Host

I like watching home shopping channels. I never have to think when they are on and the hosts have relaxing voices. Right now, there is a holiday makeup show on QVC. Everyone is wearing floor-length red velvet gowns. They are very happy and pretty with perfect lighting. The thought of the the holidays makes me want to vomit. 


Today, we went to the location that Shane's funeral luncheon will be held. The last time I was there was for a wedding. We met with a manager and made decisions. I am apparently getting pretty good at making decisions, because the manager asked if I was also in the Army. I told her no, that I was in law school, and she said, "well that makes sense." I don't know if that's a compliment or offensive. 


Many of the decisions we made today were ones that would be made for a wedding. We determined the length of the head table, which will hold photographs of Shane instead of a wedding party. We made a floor plan and I refused to pick make a seating chart. We picked out a food menu and debated having an open or cash bar. If I ever get married I know I won't be able to have a wedding that involves any of the things, because it will always remind me of Shane's death. 


Near the end of our meeting with the manager, I asked whether there would be Christmas decorations in the room in which Shane's luncheon will be. She had mentioned earlier that the staff would be setting up decorations over the weekend. The manager hesitantly answered yes. I know my body language spoke for me. I thought about asking her to take them down, to hide all reminders of Christmas so that I don't have to think about how miserable it might be this year. My parents said to leave them, that we are going to have to face them anyways and might as well do so now. I didn't feel like fighting so I agreed. 


There will be Christmas decorations at Shane's funeral luncheon. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I might do both. For right now, I will watch 5 women babble on about how important it is to own a 20-shade collection of eye shadow and what a perfect gift it would make for Christmas. And that will be enough, because it has to be.