A Letter to the Fort Hood Sentinel Concerning the 4ID Memorial Wall

For those who are not aware, on 8April2010, a car "accident" occurred at Ft. Hood causing damage to the 4ID Memorial Wall.  The damage occurred at the area of the Wall where both mine and Deb's husbands' plaques were located.  We have both taken this very badly.  Without getting into what I think happened to cause the "accident", I simply want to share a letter I wrote to the Fort Hood Sentinel about how I feel and what the 4ID Memorial Wall means to me.  One personal note... at one point I make reference to Col Phillip Bataglia and his wife Diane.  Col Diane Bataglia is the rear-d commander for III Corps and has been in charge of how this situation has been handled.  I know if she reads my letter, she will not miss the point I am trying to make to her and I do not want anyone else to miss my point either.  I pray she will do the right thing.

To the Fort Hood Sentinel:

I have been trying to write this letter for over a week, but I am not sure how to put into words exactly what I want to say or how to explain what I am feeling.  A little over a week ago, I got a text message from a friend.  It said, "Did you hear what happened to the 4ID Memorial Wall?"  I immediately called my friend who explained to me that a soldier had driven his car into the Wall.  She had just found out that morning and was on her way over there to see what the damage was.  I asked her what happened and she said she did not know the details, just that it had happened on Thursday during lunch.  I immediately went online to read about it.  The only thing I could find was a small article in the Killeen Daily Herald which basically said nothing.  It was not even mentioned on any of the Ft. Hood websites.  When my friend got to the 4ID Memorial Wall, I explained to her where my husband's plaque was located.  It was no longer there.  The area of the 4ID Memorial Wall where my husband's name was, along with 2 other soldiers from his unit, was destroyed.

 

What I felt at hearing those words is indescribable.  I have memories of my husband taking me to the Wall, pointing out names of Soldiers he knew and then telling me about them. I remember how he touched each plaque and how his voice broke just a little.  After my husband's death, I remember being dropped off at my husband's unit for the 4ID Memorial Ceremony, looking across the road at the 4ID Memorial Wall, and realizing his name would one day be added to it. This was a comfort to me because when my husband and I had discussed what he wanted should something happen to him, he had asked that his name be on a military wall at the cemetery where we had his funeral. That wall contains the names of his Grandfather and several other family members who had served the United States during a period of war. When making arrangements for his funeral I was told that wall was full and they did not have future plans to expand it. His name would never be added and I felt I had let him down.  So I found some comfort in knowing his name would be on a wall with Soldiers, some of whom he knew and cared about. And on the day of the dedication, I cannot begin to explain the pain and pride I felt at seeing his name on the 4ID Memorial Wall for the first time.

 

I do not have a grave site to go to so for the 3 years I remained at Ft. Hood, I often went to the 4ID Memorial Wall to lay flowers, talk to him or simply to cry.  At the 4 BCT Change-of-Command Ceremony, our brigade commander, COL Michael Beech and his wife Kathy asked me to stand beside them.  I remember looking at the 4ID Memorial Wall sitting just at the edge of the parade field and thinking what an honor it is to stand there representing the families of the Soldiers we lost... Soldiers whose names were there on the Wall.  When I was introduced to the new brigade commander, COL Phillip Battaglia and his wife Diane, I wanted to point at the Wall and say PLEASE don't forget them!  After the ceremony I walked over to the Wall to spend time with my husband.

 

I have a love/hate relationship with the 4ID Memorial Wall.  Some days when I needed to go on post, I would drive longer routes in order to avoid driving in that area.  Other days I would find myself driving in that direction, just needing to be there where I feel closest to him.  It is perhaps harder for me because my husband's unit was located across the road.  There are just so many memories there... meeting him at his office, family organization day, taking him dinner when he had staff duty on our anniversary, meeting his soldiers, leaving love notes in his truck, how every time we came on post he had to drive by there just to make sure everything was okay, and telling him goodbye before he left for Iraq. The last time I touched him, kissed him, felt his warmth and felt his arms around me was there, across the road from the 4ID Memorial Wall.  Standing there at the Wall, next to his plaque, I can see and remember it all. 

 

As members of my army family moved away, it became too hard for me to be near Ft. Hood and last year I moved.  The day before I left, I took flowers and laid them at my husband's plaque and said goodbye to my husband again.  The part of him that came home to me, took care of me, and loves me is the man I carry in my heart, but the Soldier who stood proud in his uniform, looked out for his soldiers, and fought for his country is still there.  He is there, watching and waiting for his soldiers, his friends, to come have a cigarette and leave one for him; to be promoted there; to take that important step toward healing; to bring their family so they can point to his name, touch his plaque and with a slightly broken voice tell them his story...

 

Only his name is no longer there and I have questions.  Why did I hear about this from a friend five days after it happened?  For every plaque missing from that Wall, a personal phone call should have been made to the families.  When I did finally receive a response to my questions, it was very nonchalant, as if the only thing that mattered is that the Wall would be fixed. This is not about concrete, stone, and plates of bronze!  It is about love, honor, and remembrance! I have tried in every conceivable way to figure out how this could in any way be an accident and I cannot.  I have not made any judgments against the soldier driving the car, but I do want to know the truth. Next week is the 4-year "angel-versary" of my husband's death and I need to know why there is no plaque hanging on that Wall with my husband's name on it.  What I wanted to say 3 years ago, I am saying now... I am pointing at that Wall and saying PLEASE don't forget them!  Do not hide, downplay, or spin this story.  The tears of the families have soaked those stones and we deserve to know the truth. 

 

LaNita Herlem

Proud Widow of SFC Bryant A. Herlem 

 

  

Life Of A Widow....

I am tired of being strong. I am tired of being a widow. I am tired of being alone, Im tired of the unexpected, Im tired of the whispering, Im tired of the looks, Im tired of wanting what I cant have, Im tired of being tired....Simply put IM TIRED!

Our NEW reality, our NEW normal, our NEW lives. . .  is not something we wanted or asked for but something we were handed and couldnt hand back like and ugly pair of pants that make our butts look too big. This was non refundable, this was non exchangeable, this was no returns accepted!  We were handed it and although the devistation was immediate, crippling and world crushing; the pride that came at that moment was one thing that we knew was there at that moment as well. The pride that our husbands made the ultimate sacrifice for their country, our country, our families, American families. We were now a part of history, not one we wanted but one that was now written in ink, could not be errased could not be changed, could not be rewritten. We were in black ink, for all to know and study. You know kinda like a science experiment with mold....watch and see what it will do, morph into!?!?

For a widow, we now have two lives; our "old" lives or as we call it our "before" life and our "new" life or our "after" life.  We long for the "before" life when we felt so alive, in love, happy and had plans that reached beyond a war and the irritations of the moment. We were going to be that "happily ever after" story that everyone else longed for. We were going to grow old WITH the love of our lives. We were going to have children, watch them grow, get married, grandchildren, front porch matching rocking chairs..these was our lives, our hopes and our dreams. Then in a split second in time our lives changed. And we now had a "before" and "after" life. What now?

Life as we know it does not stop to allow us to grieve. Bills still had to be paid, children taken care of, school, work, cleaning, laundry, groceries. And although we do get some help with some of these things most of us were doing this with no help. Our daily lives were now colliding with our grieving lives. As we struggle to come to terms with what just happend and in the midst of constantly shaking our heads in disbelief we start to try and find a way to make our new and old lives mesh.  This for me was the hardest part. I missed Chris and still do everyday but trying to figure out how to be who I was then and who I am now was nothing close to a magic trick...one Im still trying to perfect I might add. It seems as though that damn bunny comes out black when I want it white and white when it should be black. Most of the time the flowers that appear are not what I expected, but I keep trying in hopes that one day Ill have the perfect magic trick and all will be in sync...yeah I know....good luck right? But the meshing of the two lives is the hardest. Mainly because you fight with yourself all the time. We can be and for the most part ARE happy in our new lives, but that takes time, practice and concentration. And while were are trying to balance that we are missing, longing and wanting our old lives. We are in essence...."life bipolar" sufferers.  One minute happy in our new life and in an instance...*poof* we are longing for our old life and sad agian. This is us, who we are and how we live now. Aint is grand?

Then there comes the balance between our old lives and those we knew us in them and our new lives and where each of them fits and if they even can. So many cant handle the new us, the "W" word seems to put people into an overdrive of "Oh My God how do I react"?  Here I have a little bit of advice for those people, I became the widow, I lost everything, Im the one in pain, Im the one struggling to make sense of what just happend and what this means for the rest of my life. Why then is it so hard for you to just be there, love me and make me laugh when I need it, or lend me a shoulder?  I need "normal" in my life not weirdness. I need stories about him, laughter, memories all the stuff we use to do. You are not the one who is suffering and grieving and although you may feel for me, you are not me. Just love me and if you cant...GO AWAY! The last thing a widow needs is people who think its all about them or that they know so much they constantly tell you how to handle it or what you should be doing. "Should be doing", yes becuase they have been through it and have every right to share their non-experience advice with us!  Hell widows dont even do that with each other. And as I always say, we are in the same ocean but different boats and I can no more tell another widow how she should be doing or how she should be feeling, so I can promise someone who has never been in our shoes, you cant either and you shouldnt!  Family seems to have a huge problem with this too. They seem to think you should be "over it" after a year. This one amazes me the most, "over it" is not a cold, its not a traditional wound that can he healed with neosporin and a bandaide...but man dont we wish it could at times? This is basically a life sentense for us. We live it, breathe it and fight with it every day of our lives. There are better day and there are worse days. There are days that bring us to tears for no reason at all and there are days that we are happy, content and full of life. But even in those days we are still missing them, loving them, longing for them and wanting nothing more than to just be with them for a split moment if that is all we get. This is our LIFE...our REALITY!

Being a widow is like being a snake that has a skin to shed but cant find the right rock to help pull it off. So we walk around with it hoping it will shed one day knowing that at some point we will have to do it all over again.  Each year, each anniversary, each birthday, each special moment and memory makes that skin tighter and all we want to do is shed if for a moment and feel free to breathe normally. But just as a snake knows, soon the skin will get too tight need to be shed again. At times breahing becomes hard and you feel suffocated but there is always someone (usually a widster) that can help you breathe again.

The life of a widow....is pain, loss, sorrow, weakness, tears, missed dreams, missed futures, mising the past missed children, missed life and what ifs out the wazoo. 

The life of a widow......is love, memories, pride, strength, laughter, support, confidence, power, honor, future, life, children, goals, accomplishments, sister hood of widsters.

But most of all...

The life of a widow...is making these mesh!