4th of July: Independence Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

Always and forever,

Shane’s Mammy and Beth’s Momma

Mama I'm Coming Home

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

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


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

*     *     *     *     *     *

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

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


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


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


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


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


"Me, too."


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


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

*     *     *     *     *     *

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

*     *     *     *     *     *

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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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

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.

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.

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.