My chant

“Ben is dead, Ben is dead, Ben is dead” is the little chant that echoes in my head at various times throughout the day.  It pulls me back into the present so that I can focus on the life that goes on without him.   That chant also reaffirms my new responsibilities and it led me to have this conversation with Jack and Jenna just yesterday…..

“Jack, you’re in charge of the plug.  Jenna, you’re in charge of the phone.  So if Mommy electrocutes herself…… Jack please pull the plug and Jenna, you dial 911.”   “Ok” they both replied as they stood by waiting and watching.

Well, I didn’t electrocute myself and now my porch looks clean and fresh after I sprayed it down with the power washer.  It was the first time I had ever used the little machine that I had pulled from a cobwebbed corner of the garage. It took me a little bit to figure it out but I was successful.  That’s how it is these days.  In the past, I would have left that porch dirty with the idea that Ben would clean it when he returned home but with my little chant always to remind me, it is now my responsibility alone.  Afterwards there were no feelings of great accomplishment or satisfaction just that the job was complete.  It was another check in the box on the endless list of things to do.  It wasn’t until later when Katie told me that the porch looked good that I actually felt something.  I felt a small happiness.  The porch did look good and better yet my 13 year old who never acknowledges anything told me so.  I was content for a brief moment until I looked up at the rain gutters then my little chant starting singing again.  “OK, Jack you’re in charge of holding the ladder…….”

Quiet

My husband was shot and killed in Afghanistan. The events preceding, during and immediately after his death occurred far away from our home in North Carolina.  The people that surrounded him during this period are all strangers to me.  Personal accounts or exacting details of the event have not been shared.  What I do know, is that my experience with his death is very far removed from the frantic, loud, brutal and ugly reality of it all.  For me it has been very quiet.  I was informed by soft spoken Marines.  I was escorted to Dover to witness the dignified transfer where the electric hum of the platform being lowered with Ben’s flag covered remains was oddly out of place. I welcomed him home to Cherry Point and then quietly followed behind his hearse to the funeral home where Marines silently stood guard at his casket while friends and family spoke to me in hushed tones.  His memorial service and eventual burial at Arlington were so touching and beautiful and yet so quiet.  It is what I seek and crave the most now.  I find myself often withdrawing from others in order to find that quiet.  It gives me peace and calms me.   I question myself if I really need to know the intricate details of Ben’s death.  The NCIS agent recently reached out to me and inquired if I had any questions and what would be a good time to call.  It was unsettling to me. I don’t want to have a conversation with this man.  What exactly is there to say?  I do know I would like to know the time of the shooting as well as the time of Ben’s death.  When complete, I would also like the investigation report as it is devoid of human emotion.  I emailed him back my questions and request.  It of course was met with silence which I warmly embraced. 

Last dance

Ben loved to dance.  The first night I met him, he was going down to Mexico to dance.  A few weeks later I was in Mexico with him sweating it out on the dance floor until the early morning hours.  Neither of us were very skilled but it was fun.  We had some great times on the dance floor over the years but I have to confess as I got older I was less inclined to stay out past midnight.  Ben never slept and so on occasion I think I disappointed him when I said that I was done for the evening.  We went to Aruba together before he left for Afghanistan.  One night there was a huge crowd at a bar on the beach and the music was playing.  We joined in and had a great time.  On the way home, Ben thanked me for staying out late and dancing with him.  I was taken aback when he said this to me at the time and I think about it often now that he is gone.  It touched me so deeply that after so many years together he still spoke the words that acknowledged his appreciation for me and of our time together.  I will forever cherish him, our life together and continue to dance with him in my heart and memories. 

Cheerleading, prayer, death and strength

A few weeks ago, Katie came home from cheer practice bursting with excitement.  She shared with everyone that it had been determined that she would be a flyer this year.  A flyer is a person that is lifted into the air when the squad is performing stunts.  I was a little surprised, as last year she was happy to provide support as a base and had no interest in being a flyer.  I supported her news and was excited for her.  Last night at the football game, all the girls did a super job and there was Katie being elevated so high during the various stunts throughout the game.  During one stunt, when she alone was being supported high over the heads of the other girls, I saw her there, so strong against the bright blue sky.  In that one moment, I thought it was a perfect reflection of her life and time.  It demonstrated how she had supported others and now it was her time to be supported.  It reflected that by the power of many prayers, my daughter was lifted up closer to God, her father and how she has drawn strength from that experience.  Yes, cheerleading, God, death and prayer….it all correlates!  At least I didn’t identify with a cow!  But I guess I’m just a little bit like Jenna these days, making connections in unusual ways. I think it is all about how we make sense of the world and our experiences.  It is how we are able to cope and continue on in our life journey. 

Making connections

I took Jenna on a fieldtrip to a small family farm yesterday. We had the opportunity to feed and pet the farm animals. The farmer shared about each of the animals and how they came to her farm. She shared the story of a 10 week old cow named Standford. Standford's mother had died a few days after he was born and the previous owner didn't want to bottle feed him so he was sold. Jenna looked at me and excited said, "That's just like me, Mommy! Daddy died a few days after my birthday". I smiled and hugged her tight.

Mommy, you’re a widow now. Yes Jenna, I answered. Well, what does that make me, she inquired?

Tired

Life is making me so tired these days.  It really is a sad statement since I am not doing anything but living my life day by day yet I find it draining.  Maybe because it just seems so boring.  I find myself not looking forward to anything.  Then again, what is there to look forward to?  My day consists of waking up, going  to work, picking  up the kids,  eating dinner, toting the kids to various activities, watching  TV and then going to bed alone.  On the weekends, I prepare the house and kids to get ready to do it all over again on Monday morning.  It used to be that I would lead this life in anticipation of the next phone call, email or letter.  I was always counting down the days to homecoming, always knowing that this parallel life would not last forever but now….. I just don’t know.  Maybe this is my forever life and I just need to go to bed a little bit earlier so I’m not so tired anymore.