Six Years and Six Days Later (Written Sept. 17, 2007)

I guess a lot of people would consider this blog to be written a little late, even by my standards... yes, I know I have a problem with punctuality. But actually, it isn't. I had decided to not write anything about September 11, 2001, mainly because it has become very personal to me since I consider my husband's death to be linked to that event. I am not really sure that America feels that way since so many people seem to want to make Iraq a separate event from 9/11 and Afghanistan. But here it is a week later, and I am still thinking about how I feel and what my thoughts are... So here goes. My random thoughts and feelings about what we now call Patriot Day.

Sept. 11, 2001 was an odd day for me. Almost upside down. I woke up very late that morning to the phone ringing. First, back then, I NEVER slept past 7:30am and was typically up around 7. My body was on it's own internal clock back then (very unlike now). Second, it was my sister on the phone calling to tell me to cut on my tv to the news, which NEVER happens. I am the one who is always calling her and telling her what I saw on the news since I was a news junkie back then (very unlike now). I cut on the tv and the world had changed. I am not sure how else to describe it. But from that moment, life was upside down and it was unknown. What was going to happen next? For those of us who were part of the military family back then, life has simply NOT been the same since. I have never cried about that day though. I have been angry, confused, lost, and scared (what army spouse was not?!), but I never shed a tear. Not until last week.

As I was on my way to the AFAP Conference, a recording came on. It started with TAPS which should make ANYONE associated with the military tear up or at least get a lump in their throat. Then it went into a lot of different sound bites from that day- people who were there and witnessed the towers coming down, people looking for loved ones, news reporters, and the President. It was not anything that I had not heard before (like every 9/11 since the attack). Suddenly, I found myself crying. It was the first time in a long time that I had cried for something that wasn't about Bryant, and I was surprised I was doing it. I am not really even sure that I understand exactly why I was crying, except that maybe, I realized in that moment, how overwhelming that event was for us and our country. I also realized how much we have forgotten. How much we have moved on.

Two Thousand Nine Hundred Seventy-Four. That is how many people died that day. One Hundred Eighty-Four at the Pentagon. Fourty in Pennsylvania on Flight 93. Two Thousand Four Hundred Seven in the World Trade Center. Three Hundred Forty-Three Firemen and Paramedics. Many more have become sick and died due to respiratory disease from being at Ground Zero for so long after the attack. More will follow.

I know that there will be some people out there who will disagree with this statement, but I was watching Oprah's show about the Children of 9/11 and she opened the show by saying that these people sacrificed their lives. Outside of the firemen, paramedics, and other emergency personnel, I do not believe that the anyone else sacrificed their life that day (ok, technically, the terrorists did too, but I try to not waste my brain space on them). What did they give their lives for? That is what sacrifice means... They did not give their lives for anything and while it may be HARSH to hear, the deaths of those victims were meaningless. There is no sane reason for these people to have died! Every single one of those victims went to work that day with no thought of dying. They were not heroes. They were simply going to work and going about their daily routines and living their lives like all the rest of us do everyday. They were innocent people whose lives were taken, ripped violently away! They were murdered. It was an act of war upon us. US! I think that it is wrong for us to label these people as heroes who sacrificed because it separates them from us. They were innocent victims of a heinous terrorist attack. This does not mean there were not many heroic acts after the attacks occurred. I simply feel that when we use words like "sacrificed" and "heroes" it makes it easier for us to distance the victims from ourselves, when, in fact, THEY ARE US. In the mind of the killers, their hatred is as pure for me as it is for anyone who died that day. We have forgotten that. No individual person was targeted. Americans were targeted. You and Me.

Afghanistan... (and we call Korea "The Forgotten War"!) How disgusting is it that this country would rather hear about Britney Spears rather than what is happening in Afghanistan! What does that say about us and our culture?! But it is so far away from here! I think we found out on 9/11 that the world is not a very large place anymore. Afghanistan is not so far away that the terrorists were deterred from coming here to attack us. The Atlantic and the Pacific are no longer secure borders that seperate us from the rest of the world. With our very open borders, we are a very vulnerable country. I do not have a problem with people coming across our borders to work or find a better life. If I was in their shoes, I would probably try to do the exact same thing. But how do we allow our borders to remain so open and HOPE that one of those people coming across is not another radical fundamentalist?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> (continuation)

Well it is now 6 years and 9 days later. When I was writing before, I guess this is where I really did not want to go... Bryant. Bryant and the 4000+ soldiers who have died in the War on Terrorism. Not the War in Iraq or Afghanistan because that is not what this is. Maybe there was no link between Saddam and 9-11, but there is definitely a link between Saddam and terrorism. There were terrorist training camps in Iraq. Al-Quaeda is definitely in Iraq now and have been for a good while. Saddam and his family, especially his sons, were evil personified. Were you aware that the Baath Party (Saddam's political party) was originally a fascist party that was patterned after Hitler's Nazis? HMMMMM.... No, there were no WMDs (none we were told about) and we did not go in to save the Iraqi people. Other countries pose those same threats (Iran, North Korea come to mind). Oil was the deciding factor. We all know this. That is something that is very hard for us to admit... not that we went in for oil, but that we went in because we are soooo dependant on oil. We, you and me, need that oil! But that is a whole other rant... But still, the terrorists are there now.

After the attacks, so many people joined the military. An America united, for a short time. For those of us who were in the military prior, I think that we are still looking for a "new normal" or whatever the hell that is suppose to mean. Cynically, I think that with the death of Bryant, my life is more normal than other military families. I no longer have the fear or the anxiety that comes with each deployment. I no longer have to play the waiting game... when will they be put on the list, when will they leave, when will they be able to contact family, when will he IM... I no longer wait for answers because I no longer ask the questions and I wish that I did. But still, as I sit on the outside edge, I am still affected. It is only recently, that our parking lots at the commissaries and PX's have been opened up inside the concrete barricades. I will be surprised if our military bases will ever be open bases again... at least within my lifetime. The military now has a whole new set of acronyms we are now familiar with, such as TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury) or CAC (Casualty Assistance Center) or OIF (Operation Iraqi Freedom) or even the ACUs. PTSD is as common a word as the flu. Divorce is as common as a cold. We drive past certain areas on base and see the memorials to our FALLEN... or we avoid driving there if we can because it is just too painful. We were recently reminded of how we are targets when the plot to attack Ft. Dix was uncovered.

So 6 years and 9 days later... Everything changed for the families of those that died that day. For the military, so much is still changing, everyday as we pretend that things are "normal". For the rest of America (outside of a small few), life is normal again. Isn't it.

I know this blog is not so easy to follow... my train of thought is not so easy to follow either. I apologize for that. I can only say that while my random thoughts on this subject are jumbled and confusing, my feelings are not. What I know for sure is that I am still angry; that every soldier that has died in combat since then, died in a war that started on that day; that if we pull out now, we leave behind a burning powder keg that will most likely be as destructive to the world as 9-11 was to our country; that we are lying if we think any different; and, that less than 5% of this country really and truly cares... because it does not affect them at all.

Call me cynical, if it makes you feel better, but you cannot say that I am not telling the truth.

Happy Patriot Day (as our children get to go and sing around the flag pole)!

The Journey of 9/11

As I woke up this morning today's date weighed heavily on my mind. I thought about where I was eight years ago, how I felt and who was in my life. As I lay there contemplating my day and a single tear made its way down my cheek and settled next to my ear on the pillow, the same place so many have fallen for Chris. I lay there and thought about so many things that my head started to spin. 

I was in Texas, Chris was stationed at Ft. Hood. He was still up at Ft. Leavenworth finishing the CCC, Captains Career Course. I was still painting and our household goods had just arrived a few days prior. My phone rang at 8:50 and it was my best friend Chelle, she said "I know its cleaning day and you usually listen to John Mellencamp so I know the TV is not on, but you need to turn it on". I asked her why and she said, "Just turn it on Deb"... so I did. There I sat watching this tower bellow in smoke and couldnt wrap my brain around what I was seeing and then all of a sudden there it was happening again, but I thought they were just showing what had already happened. The news anchor came on in the back ground and said, "Oh My God another plane has hit the other tower, this is unreal is it a mistake what is going on?" It didnt even cross anyone's mind at that point that it could possibly be something deliberate. As I sat there with my mouth open I somehow managed to pick up my cell phone and call Tara who was at work. I asked her if she had seen the news and she said they were watching now. There was nothing more to say at that point and we just sat quietly on the phone, both of us with similar looks on our faces and watched. Finally Tara said, "Im going to call my Mom Ill call you back." I tried desperately to get in touch with Chris with no luck, he was in class. I couldnt find his Mom either. I called and called frantic to make sure I knew where all my loved ones where, knowing full well they were nowhere near this, but when fear grips your heart rational thinking goes out the door.

As I sat there glued to the TV as all Americans were, the story started to unfold. The next plane hit the Pentagon, then the plane went down in PA. It was obvious at that time, this was not an accident and we were under attack. But why, who would do this? And as I sat there, fear gripped, heart pounding and tears streaming down my face I thought, "Oh God, this means a war, this means fighting back to protect America and our freedoms.....Oh God this mean Chris will go to war!!!" My heart tightened and I couldnt breathe. Every breath was painful, every breath was harder than the one before. My phone rang and I jumped, it was Chris. He said, "Honey have you seen?" I said through tears, "yes". He asked what was wrong and I told him....there was silence for a moment which seemed as hours had passed and he said in a low somber voice, "Yes, it does mean war and it does mean me going, but that is what I train for, that is who I am...do you understand?" Again in a low tear filled voice I said, "Yes of course I do, just doesnt make it easier." We talked for a little bit, Chris trying to reassure me it would all be okay, as he always did.

That night Tara and I sat glued to the TV. Like all Americans trying to wrap our brains around what was happening, trying to gather all the information we could to make heads or tails of what this meant.

Flash forward eight years.....

It seems for me that every year 9/11 becomes more intense. The years that Chris was still alive this day was always remembered with a flag flying (as it does everyday), with a moment of silence between us and talking about what it meant and how we felt that day. Since his death, this day is just as if someone reaches in grabs my heart and rips it out...again! I think about the families that were effected, now knowing the full depths of their pain. I think of the children, knowing now what it does first hand and imagining all those little faces as they were told that their mother or father had been killed. I see Oliver's little face and the complete but controlled devisatation that hit and changed his face forever. I think about all those who ran in pure terror, those who ran towads the terror to help, those who died helping...those who stood so close to where our country was attacked. I think about the heroes on the plane in PA, those last phone calls to family, those last minutes knowing those were their last minutes. Those at the Pentagon, just taken out like they were in a video game. No choice in the matter no chance to fight back, just gone in the blink of an eye. And then I think of America, those watching from so far, helpless, horrified and in shock.

Now, we look back and realize that 9/11 was not just a day that happened, it was a day that became in that instance our history. It became a very sad part of who we are, and defined and changed how we live our lives. Its a day that happened within our lifetime, its not something I read in a history book its my history, its the beginning of a chapter that has created so many novels on this time in our lives. This is what makes our history, this as awful as it was is what made us stand up and take notice. With that single moment in time America swelled with pride, swelled with patriotism. We decided that this was not okay that the Greatest Nation was not going to stand for this. We hung our flags, we helped our neighbors, we donated to charities to help those affected. We did what we always do as Americans, we ban together as brothers and sisters and show those who attacked us that they did not break us...they made us stronger. This is why, although I am not a born American I am so very proud to be an AMERICAN!!! I was not an American on this day eight years ago, not legally but my heart and soul were and will be forever.

Today, eight years ago did not just change those who were in New York City, it changed an entire nation. It ultered our history and it ultered over 5,000 men and women who answered the call of duty. The men and women who went to fight back to protect us. And no matter what your political views and beliefs are on 9/11 and this war, that is the bottom line. Many lives have been lost for our freedom, many lives have been ultered and changed forever and it was not in vien. Those lives lost that day and the lives since were not lost in vien....

I hope that today every American will look back remember where they were, who they were with, and how its changed their lives. For those of us who have lost to this war, today is a double whammy as we remember the terror of 9/11 and remember that that was the begining to where our journey is now, for those attacks is what drove our men and women into battle, and lead us to feel the same loss, pain and walk the same journey as all those families eight years ago.

For all the families of 9/11 you are not forgotten, you and your sacrifice will never be forgotten. As I think of you often and as I look in my children's eyes I finally understand what you must have seen that day and for everyday after. For all my widsters no words can express to you how grateful I am that you are in my lives that we share such an amazing bond that started with the most incredilbe men ever, who faught and died to protect us, I love each of you as family. For my Gold Star Families, you are in my heart everyday, your loss of a child is something I can comprehend, but the pain is. Today is a day that touches so many. May that feeling carry on beyond today into everday life.

Remembering September 11, 2001...today and everyday.

Watching Them Grow...

Boys With Daddy

This summer the boys and I took a road trip up to Virginia and D.C. to spend some time with Nana, go see Daddy and meet some friends and other family as well.  Our plan included sight seeing that started with Arlington and ended in DC seeing Memorials and Monuments. Our first day....was alone with Daddy.


As we approached Section 60 my heart dropped, there in the grass where there had been no rows, not headstones, there were now seven more. Seven more rows filled with the most amazing Heroes but seven more rows that also represented numerous families that were now mourning their Hero as we had and still do. There were so many rows on the  ground where I use to stand hoping and praying that no more rows would be added, hoping that the three in front of Chris' were the last but knowing in my heart where I was standing would be the last resting place to more of our Nations Heroes.  I got out of the car and walked slowly towards them, counting them as I did, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven; seven new rows and these rows are not short rows they extend the length of Section 60 and to estimate the number of Heroes that had been added in my absence, would be over two hundred. I stood there wondering what the families were going through, knowing all too well exactly what it was.  Knowing too this was not the only place our Heroes were laid to rest. Wondering how many widows were added to my ranks, how many kids just like mine were now missing their Daddies.  It broke my heart as all I wanted to do was reach out to them all, show them that life can be what we now consider a "new normal". But it was there and it was a light they could see.  I shook my head as I wiped tears that had formed as I looked at all those perfect, white pristine headstones.


The boys tugged on my shirt encouraging me to keep walking towards Chris' grave, and I was snapped back to reality.  As I walked to Chris' grave it seemed so far back where it had been in for front of Section 60 the last time I was there.  As the boys reached Chris' grave they immediately gave him a hug and said "Hi Dad".  I was almost snapped away from my thoughts of all the new graves and Heroes that now shared this honorable place with Chris as I realized a few things that really made me stand there in disbelief and great sadness.


My boys were growing up beside their Daddy not with him, and I was measuring how much they had grown and how long it had been based on how much taller they were than his headstone.  As I stood there watching them place red, white and blue stones showing their love and honor to Chris I just couldn't believe how much taller and older they were now. I couldn't help but think of two years ago when Owen was just a little taller and Oliver's head was peaking over the top. Now I see them towering over their Daddy. The only thought that went through my mind at that point was, "how can this be their reality?" How was this my reality, but as I stood there I realized they were growing and changing and the one constant that would never change would be that grave stone, with his name on it and as I looked around beyond Section 60 I realized that there must be thousands of Moms that thought just that same way. My eyes filled with tears and I just let them run down my face in the hot sun and as they fell to the ground they landed on the ground that covered their Daddy.  


This is how I was going to gage their growth?  This is how I get to watch them grow? I knew some day they would not only tower over their Father's grave but they would one day reach the age and exceed the age that Chris was when he died. One day we would be standing there and I would be watching my six foot something boys, now men introduce their Father, their Hero to their new bride or new child. My heart sank and the pain I felt reached all the way down to my toes and I lost my footing. I had to sit down and take a breath. My tears flowed again, running down my face and dropping on the grass below, soaking into where he laid so peacefully.  How was this my reality? This can't be the only way they would ever know him, as a grave marker.  I wish nothing more than for them to be filled with love and stories and memories that were created by the time they spent with their Daddy. I wish nothing more than for them to feel his warm strong hands, his deep caring voice and look into those crystal blue loving eyes. They will never be able to experience that, they will never know him as I did or anyone that was lucky enough to have known him. I sat there as they so proudly talked to him, placed the colorful patriotic stones and did not notice my near breakdown. I cried for a brief time, and then looked up to see them hugging his grave again, knowing they were two of the most proud little men I had ever known.  I smiled ... through my tears and was hoping Chris was smiling too.


I got to my knees making sure I was stable to stand and brushed myself off. I pulled out my camera and started to take pictures of those two proud little men who just couldn't show enough love to their Hero and Daddy.  As I snapped picture after picture I saw the love they had for him, the pride, the joy of just being there and I realized my pain was just mine at that moment as this is all they knew and were so happy to just have that time with him. I finished taking the pictures and we walked back to the car.


As we drove away from Section 60 and Chris I looked in the rearview mirror and saw his grave get smaller and smaller as the boys' smiles got bigger and bigger. They were happy to have seen Daddy.  I had the images of them and his headstone in my head the whole way home and it dawned on me, through myself, our family, friends, and Chris' soldiers my boys would know their father, maybe better than most sons known their Fathers. It now was clear to me that they already knew so much about him. They knew how much he loved them, how much he missed them, what a wonderful Father he was, the personality traits they carried, the genes that were undeniably Chris', how his soldiers looked up to him and honored him everyday. They already know how much I loved him and miss him. They know amazing stories about him through their Granddad.  They have seen the pictures, the dedications, the honor, the pride, the love, and that is so much more than most see in a lifetime. And this was just the beginning of what they would know and learn about him. I alone had stories to share that will come in time. I alone had a lifetime of love to share with them. And as we pulled into Nana's drive I noticed them sitting quietly and I asked what the matter was. They both looked up with eyes filled with tears and said together, "We miss our Daddy, Mom". And as heartbreaking as that was, it was a comfort because I knew they knew enough about him to miss him.


I scooped them up in my arms and we shared a good cry together. We walked in Nana's house to smells of a yummy dinner and they ran up the stairs to tell her all about their visit. I smiled because I knew, one more memory had been made even though Chris was not here physically, he was here in our minds, hearts, memories and that was enough because that was the best it could be.

The Day I was Notified...

I absolutely hate talking about my notification.  I used to not mind because it is such a huge part of my journey, but as time passes, it has become such a very personal and private moment for me and NOT a moment I choose to dwell on!  It is just so overwhelming to go back to that day.  To that moment...

When Bryant got to Iraq, one of the first things he did was make sure he had an internet connection.  In 2006, the internet in Iraq was NOT the best, but Bryant made a shopping list for me of the hardware he needed and had me send the stuff to him so that he and his guys would have the best connection they could get.  At the time I was mildly irritated at the money being spent, but now I know why he did it.  He needed that connection to me.  Because of the extra effort he made, I was able to talk with Bryant nearly every morning and every evening.  It was rare when I did not get to talk with him and on the days I did not hear from him (usually due to communication black-outs) I stayed irritable and worried until I heard the familiar computer beep letting me know someone was IM'ing me.

On the evening of April 27, I got the familiar beep.  Bryant was just getting out of bed.  He usually "beeped" me first thing because he knew how much I liked to watch him get ready for work.  I guess it was my way of holding onto a small domestic ritual since I used to lay in bed and watch him when he was home.  As he sipped his coffee, we talked for a couple hours and then he had to leave for work.  I went to bed about an hour later.  During the night I woke up freezing cold to the point I was shivering.  I looked to see what time it was (1:10 AM), pulled the covers tighter around me and thought to myself, "I should have worn my flannel pajamas to bed."  After a few moments I was back asleep.

The next day was a beautiful warm day.  I did not get an IM from Bryant and for the first time, I did not worry about it.  I checked to see if he was online, but went on with my day.  I cleaned my house and was getting ready to sit down and watch NASCAR qualifying from Talladega when the doorbell rang.  My first thought was the mailman was delivering books I had ordered a week or so before.  I opened the door to find a man and a woman, both wearing the dress green uniform... and I knew.  Bryant was not going to be able to keep his promise to me.  He was never going to come home.     

So much about that day is a blur to me now.  I do not remember hearing the words being read by SSG Baker...telling me my husband was dead.  I remember saying a few choice cuss words only to then feel bad for cussing in front of the chaplain.  I remember her putting her arm around me and leading me to the couch.  She said a lot to me but the only thing I remember was when she said, "It is all a bad dream."  I thought, "This is no fucking dream.  This is as real as it is ever going to get because this is not something I will ever wake up from."  To this day I hate that Carrie Underwood song...  

SSG Baker asked if I wanted him to call someone and I do not know why but I asked for my FRG leader, Nadine.  In the few months we had known each other we really only had one conversation. I was a point-of-contact (POC) for some of the families in the unit. Nadine and I sat together during a POC training and afterward we had lunch.  Outside of that one day and the few FRG meetings we had, I did not really know her.  But it was her I asked him to call.  She came as soon as she could.  I don't know what I said to her during those long hours of sitting there in my living room.  She sat with me as I called my mom and listened as I called my brother-in-law because I wasn't sure if I should call my sister at work or wait until she got off.  He was sitting at the school waiting to pick my nieces up and had to break the news to them on the way home.  I think I finally did call my sister.  Bryant's family had not been notified and I fretted over when they would be told.  

Eventually my CAO came over.  Bryant's commander requested MSG Eddie Campos to be my CAO because he was from our unit and he knew Eddie would do everything to see that I was taken care of.  Eddie and Bryant had been friends.  I could see it was not easy for him to be there and in a way that was a comfort to me.  Someone else was hurting for Bryant too.  I listened as Eddie explained each paper before I signed it.  He set a gratuity check down on the couch next to me explaining that it was meant to help me get through the next few months while everything got settled. It lay there forgotten until the next morning when I caught my dog chewing on it.  I do remember Eddie and Nadine telling me stories about Bryant at work and I remember laughing.  Bryant could always make me laugh.

The only other visitor I had that day was my neighbor came over wanting to know if everything was okay.  She was an army wife also and had seen the cars.  Nadine met her at the door and would not allow her in simply saying I did not want to see anyone.  Protecting me became Nadine's mission and God bless her, she did her job very well.  I was not aware of it but several people called her wanting information.  She fielded all those calls and over the next couple weeks made sure I was not overwhelmed by everyone.  She was my liaison to the outside world. She coordinated who and when people came to see me and made sure I ate.  To be honest, to get details about that day, it would be best to ask her... I just don't remember.  Maybe I don't want to.

I did eventually asked if anyone was killed with Bryant.  The only answer I could get was "I don't know."  I later found out Bryant's gunner, SGT Jose Gomez had been killed also.  A week or so before they died, Jose came to Bryant's room while we were chatting on the computer.  He saw me on the screen and said hello and thanks for a care package I had sent to him.  We chatted a moment and then he and Bryant started picking on each other.  I remember laughing as I watched them.  Jose was such a good kid...

As it got late, I told Nadine she did not have to stay.  She said she wanted to make sure I got something to eat since I had not eaten all day.  I put on my flip-flops and walked out the door.  She drove to Sonic and I realized I had not brought my purse.  I had no money and no keys to get back into the house.  She bought my dinner and we sat in my driveway eating while waiting for a locksmith.  After I got into the house, Nadine went home.  It was around 11pm.  I sat down at my computer and wrote an email telling our friends what had happened.  It took so long to write because it had to be perfect.  Perfect for Bryant.  At one point I went into the bedroom and opened a drawer.  I pulled out my blue flannel pajamas and remembered what happened the night before.  It was way too hot for flannels so I put them back and put on something else.  Nearly 2 weeks later, as I made arrangements for Bryant's funeral, Eddie would tell me what time Bryant died.  Out of habit I converted that to central standard time and I finally realized the significance of waking up freezing cold at the end of April in Texas.  It was the moment Bryant was killed.  I had felt him die.

I eventually fell asleep around 5 AM.  In the hour or so I was able to sleep Bryant came to me. He was there in our bedroom sitting in a recliner I bought for him after his first tour in Korea.  I was sitting on his lap.  His arms were around me and he was holding me tight as he explained how he had to go back to work.  He reached behind him, pulled the curtain back.  I did not see our backyard.  I saw soldiers working in the sand under a hot sun. He kept telling me they need me there.  He kissed me goodbye and I woke up to a world without him and a life I did not want.  

It has been 4 years, 3 months, 1 week and 6 days since the day I was notified that my husband was killed.             

 

My Notification ~ The Day I Went Numb. . .

MY NOTIFICATION. . .


As  I sit here thinking about that day, that faithful day that four and a half years ago; my hands get sweaty, my heart pounds, breathing becomes labored and all I feel is like I'm right back there. The feeling from that day will never leave me, never lessen and never be any more real then than they are today.

January 5, 2006 it was a cool morning in Texas and I was having a "usual" day for a single Mom who was taking care of her three year old and a ten week old sons. I had gotten up after a restless night, waking up at 3 in the morning and not to feed Owen for the first time since he was born. It was an odd, unnerving feeling that woke me. I had spoke to one of the wives, one of my wives since Chris was a Commander I was there contact. This particular wife was on the computer all the time looking for things that had to do with our guys. This particular morning she had found a one line blurb from the AP that stated "US Soldier convoy struck by IED, casualties unknown at this time and pending DOD official release". I will never forget that one liner as long as I live. I looked it up and told her there was no information that could make her think it was our guys. But deep down in the pit of my stomach I knew from the first word I read that it was Chris. I felt it and there was no reason for it other than I just knew.

My best friend Kare, who lived right next door called a few moments later and told me there was a young man going from door to door asking about husbands occupations. She didn't want him to know I was home alone so she called to warn me. I told her about the phone call and told her about the AP release. I told her I had this feeling that it was Chris and she said, "Its not him, he's fine don't worry." But the feeling nagged at me. We continued to talk as we usually did and I was on the computer searching for anything else I could find.  We chatted about the kids, she had just had her baby weeks before and we were comparing notes. Oliver came in my room and hugged me and asked to watch some TV but I sent him back to his room to play for a bit longer.  Twenty minutes later the knock at my door, of course I ignored it, why shouldn't it mostly likely it was that kid.  A few seconds later the knock came again,this time a little more intense and I made the comment, "damn he's a little persistent shit!" Moments later the knock was much louder and much more pronounced. I got up and walked to the dinning room which looked directly through the living room to the front door. The door had frosted glass and there I saw one figure. As I stood there starring at the door, I saw a flash of something shiny and then it happened....

There it was the second figure slowly emerged from behind the first and with that I saw the rest of the shiny, now clearly gold buttons. My heart dropped, my head started to spin and my hands became sweaty. I said to Karey, "OMG there are two of them, Ive gotta go." and I hung up or dropped the phone, I don't remember. I walked to the door but I swear my feet were not touching the ground, I was weightless (which was ironic for girl that still had a lot of baby weight on her ass), couldn't breathe and it was all in slow motion from that moment on. I got to the door and couldn't remember how to open it, I fumbled a little and then slowly oh so very slowly opened it, hoping beyond all hope I was dreaming or it was not two soldiers in Class As (or as I call them Green Bean outfits) standing there starring back at me. The door came open and I froze there in time as they started..."Are you Mrs. Deborah Petty, wife of Captain Christopher Paul Petty?", "Yes" I said in a whisper. They started again in what seemed to be even slower motion,  "Do you know why we are here?" Of course I was not in the right frame of mind and that question was a "duh" for me so I said "To pick up my laundry...?"  They didn't miss a beat and they started again, "Ma'am on behalf of the United States Army and our Commander and Chief, I regretfully inform you of the death of your husband Captain Christopher Paul Petty...." and I'm fully aware that is not exactly what they said but that is what I heard and I will forever hear that. I just stood there, what next? As that thought came to mind they asked if they could come in. I opened the door wider the they entered. I sat on the couch and as I did Oliver came running in. He wanted to know if these were Daddy's soldiers and I said no they were not. I was crying these huge, warm, sobbing tears but until that point had no idea I was even crying. I sat there for a moment trying to soak it all in. *Did they really just tell me that Chris was dead?* was all I could think.  I looked at Oliver and his little face was so worried. At three he was my biggest protector and he couldn't figure out what was going on. I hugged him and pulled him onto my lap, as I did I looked at the Chaplain and he had tears streaming down his face.  He saw me and quickly wiped them away with one sweep of his hand. I hugged Oliver tight and the tears flowed, *OMG how was I going to tell my sweet boy his father, best friend and hero was never coming home?* That thought quickly left me when he jumped off my lap and ran to his room. I was sure he must have known, but instead he came back with red, white and blue "daddy patriotic bear" and gave it to me. At three he says, "Mommy it will be okay don't be sad, I'm here and love you."  That alone made the tears harder to control. The Chaplain wanted to say a prayer and so I let him (no I didn't go up in flames either).  He turned and looked at Owie and tears formed again. He had two little boys about the same age and I could just imagine what he was thinking.  They asked if someone was near that could come be with me. I stood up, feeling woozy and light headed and walked to the phone that lay on the floor. I dialed Karey's number about four times because I just couldn't remember the number even though I called it about six times a day. Finally I got it right and her husband, Tim answered. I could barley catch my breath as I said, "Tim is Karey still there, I need her its Chris and its bad?" He said, "She's on her way, Deb she should be at the door by now." I don't even remember if I said thank you or if I just hung up but I turned to see her shadow at the door and it was like all I wanted was for her to catch me.  I ran to the door flung it open and said, "Its Chris, he's gone Kar, he's gone!!!"  (WOW the tears are free flowing now and its amazing after four years how easy this is to recall and feel like I'm right back there at that door) She flung her arms around me and held me tight, and I needed it because I felt like I was melting down into the floor. She walked me to the couch and said, "No it cant be, this is not the way its suppose to be." But there was no changing what had just escaped their lips and now hung heavily in the room. Once they saw I would be "okay", which still makes me laugh because their idea of "okay" and mine were not the same.

The two men left and I sat there, shaking my head. What now, what do I do? As soon as that thought came to mind my phone began to ring. It was the Rear D commander and the Battalion Commander's wife. They wanted to come over but were with another wife that had just gotten the same damn news. Then I realized that Chris was not alone, OMG who was with him, did I know them, how many wives, mothers, fathers, kids would this effect? My heart sank and I wasn't sure how much lower it could go without seeping out the bottoms of my feet.  I was told about Maj. William Hecker but the other families had not been notified yet. My heart ached, I wanted to run to them tell them no you cant make them feel this way its not fair, but I sat there as more tears filled my eyes and ran down my cheeks settling on the front of my shirt. These poor families what were they going to think, how would they feel, what would be there reactions? How could this be real?

The next thing I clearly remember was the damn doorbell ringing endlessly and I hated it, I hated that damn bell I wanted to rip it out!! Then the knocks and the knocks to this day send cold shivers down my spine. I hate people to knock at my door.  Flowers began to arrive, and all I could think was "How how did they know and not me?" But soon I found out it was from Command and those involved in the notification from Chris' unit.  My phone began to ring and it seemed so loud it hurt my ears.  I reached for the phone and for a split second hoped it was Chris. Tears began to flow again and Karey started to answer the calls. I sat there at my dinning room table, then getting up and pacing but I don't remember much more.

My next thought or memory of that day is who was going to notify his Mom, and oh my god his Dad is not home he is in D.C who will tell him? And then there was his sister, no one would notify her so it was my job, my duty to do so. I needed them to hear it from me. So I called Lisa first. I told her what I couldn't even believe was coming out of my mouth nevertheless that it was real. She started to scream "NO!!!" at the top of her lungs, she called me a "f*cking liar" and hung up. I sat there not knowing what to do, how could I have just shattered someones whole world like that? It wasn't fair of me. I composed myself again and slowly dialed his Dad's number, its was ringing....Oh My God it was ringing...whew voicemail. In my clearest most non startling voice I said "Hey Paul its Deb, can you give me a call when you get a chance? Thanks talk to you soon. Love you".  I have no idea how much longer it was but he called back and I slowly let the words leak out of my mouth again. He sat there, then "Oh God please no, please no, really, are you sure?" I began to cry and told him about Lisa and that I didn't know what to do. He said not to worry he would call her and check on Chris' Mom too. I said "thank you and I love you" in a very teary, shaky voice. We hung up and then it hit me, I still had to tell MY family.   I called my Dad and he was speechless. What could he say. I called my brother Peter's wife and told her and she just sobbed. Peter called me soon after and I was at a loss for words for him they just didn't come to me.  My brother David called and the same thing, had no idea what to say. Peter and Meg flew out to Texas that night and I'm not sure if it was a comfort or not.

By midday I was exhausted but sleep would not come. There was too much on my mind. I didn't feel anything. I was numb, the kind of numb that once it sets in you don't remember things until yrs later. The accounts in this blog only started coming back to me little by little last year, three years later. Some of it just recently.  That night I had told the same mind boggling, body numbing story over and over to the point that I thought I was just telling someone else's story. I was not in denial, but more just not there at all. I sat on the floor with a beer between my legs, not knowing who fed or bathed my kids, who took the dog out, who made dinner, didn't care, couldn't think about it.  I sat there surrounded by our friends, and as I looked at each of their faces I saw the pain, I saw the heartache and as much as they tired to hide it, they couldn't. They told stories about Chris, laughed at how silly he was, but the laughter was surrounded by the tears they were holding back. I looked up and I just said with tears filling my eyes, "This cant be real, it just cant be."  The looks on their faces were all I needed to know that this room was filled with those who loved him and in their own ways felt the pain that was racing through my veins.

As we sat there telling stories another stupid knock at the door, I looked up and saw the shiny gold buttons, and knew I was about to meet my CAO. Karey opened the door and he said "Mrs. Petty?" Karey laughed and said, "No that's her.." He walked over to me and sat next to me, looking at me he said, "There are no words a stranger like me can possibly say but I'm sorry just the same for your loss and I will do whatever I can to help you through some of this." Hey at least he was an honest green bean wearing CAO!  I came to hate that uniform I might add.  He told me we had some things to discuss and I said it can wait. He gave me an envelope and I put it down, he made it clear I needed to put that away safely. So I got up put in on my desk and came back to sit on the floor with my beer in hand, which was now luke-warm. Somehow, though; new cold ones kept showing up in my hand.  He sat there on the couch listening to the stories, really listening to them. I looked at him a few times and noticed tears, not the kind that run down but the manly ones that seem to linger in the eyes until they dry up again.  He looked at me and smiled. I will never forget that smile. It was heartfelt and real. He didn't know Chris but the love, friendship, honor, that he felt in the room he did understand and I believe that made it real for him. Everyone kept telling stories, some I knew some I didn't. I laughed a painful laugh but a genuine one just the same.

People brought food, lots of food. I'm not sure but I suppose they thought I had an army to feed. But it was nice to not worry about where the food would come from. Flowers, oh my god the flowers were awful, it was like a funeral home in my house. And the "cat piss" flowers were so gross. Yes "cat piss' flowers, they are the starlight Lillis and I hate them they stink! :) My house was filled from wall to wall and I couldn't get away from the smell. It made me sick and so I asked Karey to remove all the "cat piss" flowers, and she did. There were cards, messages, emails and just the love was overwhelming.

Two things that I do remember are being so worried that the flag outside was all tattered and that was not a flag to have for a fallen hero. So my friend Tara brought a new one for me and Scott, my CAO hung it for me, or at least I think it was him, huh maybe not. The other was the few pictures I had of Chris and the boys the night they deployed, they had to be framed that day and in the house. Karey made sure they were done it wasn't even another thought for her. Without my close friends, that day would have been a complete disaster for my kids, dog, me... Tim, who hates to take the trash out, took it out for me and I remember saying, "Wow that's all it takes is my husband dying to get you to do that?!?" He laughed and took it out shaking his head. Karey got the mail...but hid it from me, there was a letter from Chris in it. I didn't find that until after the funeral.

After everyone was gone and I was back in my room, alone; I sat down at my computer I had to document what the day was for the boys. I had to write down my feelings, how it all happened, who came to be with us and the stories. I took a deep breath as I am now and wrote it all down. The words seemed so unreal, not mine, as if I was writing a novel, a fictional story about what it might be like to be notified. But I did it, wrote it all down. I go back now to read it and it sparks memories that I didn't know I had.  It was good to do even if I felt like it was not my life, my story I'm still glad I did.

My brother and his wife arrived at midnight after getting lost on the back roads of  Texas but to be honest I was exhausted I don't remember the rest past that time.  They left for their hotel and the next thing I knew or remember is....

Waking up the next morning and thinking it was all a dream. BUT then, I walked into the flower covered living room and knew it wasn't....I just stood there, looking as the tears rushed down my face and I began to sob, sitting on the hard tile floor, face in my hands and rocking back and forth I just sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. ...

The American Widow Project... Comrades-in-Arms

I am not really sure if I can put into words what the American Widow Project means to me or if I can justly describe the impact it has had on my life.  Without a doubt, I know I would not be who I am today without it.  To be honest I cannot imagine moving forward in life without the friends and positive encouragement that comes with being a member.  It is most certainly a part of who I am, and who I want to be in the future.

When Bryant was killed, I was blessed with a very strong support system.  I did have horrible moments but I have always known I am not alone.  I have my family, my army family, my friends, my best friend Nadine and I have Bryant's undying love to get me through.  Even in the darkest moments I know I am blessed and I am grateful.  To be honest when it came to support, during those first couple years, I was not really even aware that I was missing something.  That feeling of being alone, of being lost, of not knowing, of being shut off from the world was something I believed came with the job description of being a widow.  And most of what I was feeling (and still feel) is definitely from having lost the man I love more than my own life.  But it wasn't until 2 years into my widowhood when I joined the American Widow Project that I began to realize someone else understood the physical pain I felt when my world was destroyed.  That there were other women who were awake at 4 am, afraid to go to bed alone because there in the dark they could not longer hide from the gut wrenching tears.  And yes, there were other women who suddenly found that personal hygiene and cleaning your house were not highly rated in the final scheme of things.  But most of all there were other women who recognized that behind the strength and determination the rest of the world saw, was a woman who was afraid she would take the wrong step, make the wrong decision, and let her husband down.  They knew the woman who struggled to find a reason to continue breathing because they were that woman too.  I tried grief counseling and I tried group therapy.  They are all well and good, and probably do wonders for others.  But for me what made the American Widow Project different is the AWP gives me a community.  I place where I am accepted, a place where I am normal, a place where I belong.

My first AWP event was in July 2008 at the premiere of the AWP dvd.  Unsure of what to expect I almost backed out of going.  I finally forced myself to get in the car and even showed up late for Friday's dinner.  I remember walking into the hotel lobby and there was a small group of women.  I did not recognize any of them.  But I knew in my heart they were widows.  They wore the widows' badge of honor... tattoos.  Still I hesitated and then one of them mentioned a name I recognized.  I walked over, told them who I was and Natalie Craver hugged me.  (I still have the business card she gave me.)  That evening I met the other widows at the bridge to watch the bats.  I was still unsure of what to expect so I went back to my room.  My roommate for the weekend, Deb was not going to arrive until the next evening so I spent that first night alone. The activities the next day were lots of fun (especially the tubing) but for me that has never been why I attend the AWP events, not even the first one.  I needed to know if the acceptance and understanding I found online was real and I needed to know if there was a place for a (nearly) 40-year old woman in this group of very young women.  That evening I had my answer.

That evening we all came together at the Alamo Draft House for the dvd premiere.  I finally met Deb who I had already connected with so closely online.  At first, I connected with Deb because she was the first AWP widow who was close to my age.  She and Chris had been together almost as long as Bryant and I, and she understood what it meant to give up a part of yourself to be a career soldier's wife.  Deb is also as outspoken as me (maybe even more so) and her humor is just as dark!  During the film, I sat with Jenn F.  She was the very first widow I ever met.  Her husband Alex was killed 1 month and 1 day after Bryant.  Before deploying to Iraq, our husbands had worked together in 8-10 Cav, so I went to Alex's Memorial at Ft. Hood.  Bryant would have wanted to be there to honor him and despite the masochistic decision I knew I was making, I went so as to not let Bryant down.  When we met, Jenn and I did not immediately connect.  To be honest it was probably too soon for both of us since there was really nothing left in us to give.  But as we were introduced I remember struggling to find something to say, when I noticed the chain around her neck.  I reached up to my own necklace and lifted it so that she would see the wedding rings dangling.  She reached up and touched her own.  It was not a magical moment and no divine revelations were shouted from the Heavens... we were just two women who were broken.  

After the dvd was over we headed to 6th Street.  Jenn, Deb, Karrie (Deb's best friend) and I went from club to club.  We ran into groups of the other widows, chatted, laughed, danced and watched all the interesting people who helped to give Austin its name... WEIRD!  Oddly enough, as the night wound down, all the widows, nearly 30 of us, all came together in the same bar... Pete's Dueling Pianos.  As the last song of the night began we all joined in singing... Journey's "Don't Stop Believing".  As we all stood there arm in arm, singing at the top of our lungs, we looked to each other and for the first time since I saw Bryant, I saw hope.  I saw the possibility for a future happiness.  In that moment a piece of my soul healed.  Later that night, about 10 of us sat in the lobby of the hotel talking and I realized we were all trying to hold onto what we had found that weekend.  None of wanted the weekend to end.

After moving to North Carolina, I began to volunteer with the AWP.  Knowing what the organization gives to me, I wanted to find a way to give something back.  Over the past year I have been to several AWP events.  With each trip I watch as each new widow has that moment when she realizes she is not crazy, everything she is feeling is normal, and that she is not walking alone.  

Through the years I have often said and I truly believe with all my heart, when you choose to join the military, you gain something from it.  It does not matter how long you serve, the military becomes a part of who you are.  That something is indescribable, but you know it is there and it makes you a better person. With the men and women you serve with, your comrades-in-arms, there is a bond, an understanding... they are family.  Even as the family member of a soldier, you understand the military is a close-knit community.  A society separate from the civilian world. As a former soldier and a military spouse, I loved that sense of being part of something bigger than yourself.  A place, a community where you belonged.  Then my worst nightmare happened.  I became a military widow.  I no longer knew my place in the military world that I had called home for so long.  Did I even have a place?  I am forever connected to these people who worked with my husband, his comrades-in-arms.  That connection, that bond is there... but it isn't my bond, my connection.  It is Bryant's.  SFC Bryant Herlem's widow will always have a place in that world.  But what about LaNita?

That feeling of connection I lost with the army, I gained through the AWP.  Grief is not a wound that heals and goes away.  Like being a soldier, the pain of widowhood becomes a part of who you are, something you will always carry with you.  My widsters are my comrades-in-arms now.  We have each others back.  We march side-by-side, fight the good fight and leave no widster behind.  We arrive broken, but with the help of each other we learn how to adapt and overcome.  We all carry battle-scars.  And like a military post, the AWP has built a community for us, a place where we are understood and supported.  A place to grow and yes, even heal a bit as we grow stronger.  That is what the AWP is to me.  A place where I feel as if I belong, where I have a sense of kinship, a place where I can safely learn to live again.  Being an AWP widow is a part of who I am.  It has given me something. Something indescribable.  But I know it is there and I know I am a going to be a better person because of it.       

         

a Weekend With Widows in a Weird city (originally written July 14, 2008)

This is the blog I wrote after my first AWP event... the premiere of the AWP dvd in Austin.  It is also the first time Deb and I physically met in person!  But more than that, it was my first real connection to my widsters and finally understanding that I NEEDED them in my life.  I will always remember that last night, sitting in the lobby of the Radisson around 4 am, none of us wanting the night to end.  I think that weekend was a turning point for us all...

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This past weekend was a very new experience for me. Thanks to the hard work of some very beautiful women (and especially T) I got to spend this past weekend getting to know and just having fun with some of my sister-widows. Even though I have been a widow for over 2 years and am involved with a few military widow groups, this is the first chance I have had to really spend time with these many women I have become friends with online.

It was also my first time in Austin... believe it or not! Yes, I have lived an hour away from Austin for the past 10 years and outside of driving straight through when going to San Antonio, the occasional shopping trip to Ikea, or my Christmas with friends at Cool Rivers, I have NEVER spent time in Austin! Go figure! I mean the motto of the city is "Keep Austin Weird"! That alone is all the reason I would need to check it out! And believe me, Austin did not disappoint! lol

The reason for all of us coming together in Austin is the launch of the American Widow Project (AWP). It is an online support group started by a widow, made up of widows, ran by widows, all information and support is provided by widows... that being military widows of course. It has been amazing for me especially since online fits perfectly in my schedule.

The weekend did not start out too fabulous for me because I got a late start and got caught up in 5 o'clock traffic. FUNFUN (written with the utmost amount of sarcasm pouring off those words). See, I HATE traffic. ABSOLUTELY HATE IT! What should have taken an hour, took 2 1/2 hours. Then when I finally made it to the road where the hotel is located, it ended up being a "funky road". I am driving to the hotel, but the block where the hotel is located is one-way. Not the whole road mind you, but that one single block. So even though I am sitting at the stop light and can see the hotel, I cannot drive there because the one-way is going the wrong way for direction I need to go. I have to take a right, go one street over, turn left, go a block turn left again and then turn back onto the street I was originally on so that I am now going the right way on the one-way road that is only a block long and can now get to my hotel. Excuse me, but WHY would one single block on a main road be one way and the rest of the road be a two-way??? Maybe that is TX DOT's contribution to keeping Austin weird...

Needless to say when I get to the hotel, I am NOT a happy widow. I immediately decided that $20 was not too much to pay for valet parking because at that point, looking for a parking place was not something I wanted to deal with. All I wanted was to be OUT of the car and was very happy to pay in order to do that! I walked in and immediately found a group of AWP widows in the lobby. I overheard one of them say a name I recognized and their memorial tattoos confirmed it. They were on their way to dinner at the Iron Works. I decided to skip that because I wanted to get settled in my room AND I was wearing one of my favorite white blouses... very dangerous when eating bbq! Besides, the thing I was really looking forward to was happening later that night and I wanted to be rested and relaxed so that I could enjoy it. I was seriously excited about the BATS!

One of the weird and very cool things that you can do in Austin is to go to the Congress St bridge on a Friday night and watch the bats come out to feed. Like a zillion bats live under this bridge! We met out at the bridge around 8:15 which gave us about 30 minutes for introductions to the widows I did not know and a "real" introduction to the widows I know online and have given so much support to me since I joined the group. There are a couple widows that I have already met before through other events and was so glad to see their familiar faces. Needless to say, there is no way in HELL I was going to remember everyone since there were 30 widows there, but by Sunday I think I had about 25 names and faces memorized. Not bad for my 41-year old memory!

The coolest for me was finally meeting T, the widow who started the group. She gives so much of her time and so much of herself to the group. She listens to our suggestions and does her best to follow through with our ideas. At only 22, I think she is an Old Soul. By that I mean that I think she understands the importance of connection and reaching out beyond herself. She started the group just months after her husband was killed and in less than a year, it has grown very quickly (mainly just by word-of-mouth) and has even been featured in the national news. I personally think it is amazing all she has done. And I do not mean to knock 22-year olds, but I have never met one who can do what she has done especially considering what she was going through personally. T would be the first to say that she has gotten a lot of help along the way and I am proud to say that I have been one of the many widows who have contributed stories and (hopefully) inspiration to the widows who will come after us. But for each of us many widows who have helped to lay stones in building the AWP, it is T who gave us the foundation on which to build. Thank you T for giving us a place to lay our pain and make something positive out of something that has been so bad!

Now, back to the bats! I think everyone would agree that bats are not everyone's thing and there were some widows who very happily (and quickly) walked away as soon as they experienced the first bats coming out for the night. As for me, I thought it was just really cool and special. Before the bats came out, you could hear them squeaking as they woke up. They flew out from underneath the bridge in small groups of a few hundred and all of them went flying in the same direction. (BTW, like an idiot I forgot to take my camera with me for the weekend- ugh!). While I thoroughly enjoyed watching the bats, I do have to admit that I did not enjoy their smell. It wasn't strong enough to knock you down, but just a slight musky scent. But what can you expect since bats are rodents with wings. Rodents smell! But believe me, the smell was a small price to pay to see them all come out for the night.

After the bats, rather than go out and party, I went back to my room, did some homework and watched the Nationwide race. I know that sounds fuddy-duddy, but the homework had to get done and I also knew I was getting up early the next morning so I needed to sleep. Well, I got my homework done, but sleep was out of the question. NEVER EVER EVER get a room near the elevator. I woke up everytime someone got off that elevator and that was probably because they were happily wasted. And I definitely know that I am a country girl because there are a lot of sirens in the city on a Friday night and they all seemed to pass right by the Radisson. Saturday morning came very quickly.

Saturday was a lot of fun. We went to Wimberley Zipline Adventures. It was not as fun as I thought it would be. Do not get me wrong. I would definitely do it again! But I could not quite get the whole stopping thing at first. It is simple, but I had problems with realizing that if my brake hand comes off the cable, I can put it back on! I just got so focused on trying to keep my hand on the line that I made it harder than it was. I think I am the only one that stopped on the line before getting to the end point also. That meant I had to pull myself to the end... and the cable was going uphill. Awesome upperbody workout! I think I am also the only person that grabbed the cable when trying to brake (I was trying to not let my hand fly off the cable). Grabbing the cable is a no-no. It twists you around and you don't slow down, so luckily there were two men to catch me (going about 30 miles an hour). I am not sure they enjoyed that, but I actually thought it was pretty fun. Definitely a bit of a rush! lol

The next thing we did was my favorite thing and I will be going back to do this AGAIN! We went to San Marcos (I think) and tubed down the river. That was SO relaxing and SO fun! Even getting stuck on the rocks in the rapid areas was amusing. My only complaint would be the nice sunburn I got on my underarms. I mean WHO puts sun block on their underarms?! I definitely will when I go back, that is for sure!

Later that night we went to the Alamo Draft House to see the American Widow Project documentary. It is really great and I think they are going to try and get it shown at some film festivals. A copy will also be given to every widow from the Iraq and Afghanistan Wars. But the best part of that night for me, was finally meeting Deb. She is the widow I have connected with the most on a personal basis and is one of those people I know we would have been friends even if we had met in our "prior" lives. It was also the first time I got to spend some real time with JenF. It was a lot of fun hanging with her too!

The most important resource provided by the AWP (in my opinion) is simply the widows in the group. The AWP documentary features 6 of our ladies telling their story. As I listened to each of these stories, I know exactly what they are feeling and needing in that moment. The details may be different, but I have lived the exact same moments, had the same fears. We have all struggled to make our own new paths according to our own individual personalities and needs, and while each path is different, it is the struggle that we all relate to and understand.

One moment in the film really hit me. One of the women mentioned that she no longer talks to God, she talks to her husband. I know ALL about that. I used to pray every night and I still do, but now I talk to Bryant when I pray. It is hard to explain. It's like I am on a 3-way call and I know God is listening in, but it is to Bryant that my words are directed. My connection to Bryant is God, so maybe that is why I do it. I don't know. I always end by asking God to take care of Bryant (until I can be there and do it myself) and to take care of our troops... I guess maybe this is just one of those things where you have to walk in my shoes to truly understand.

After the Alamo, we grabbed some margaritas at a Mexican Restaurant and then we all hit 6th Street which is where all the bars are located.

The first place we stopped was decorated like a 1960s hair salon. I kid you not! And if there was any question about it being a gay bar, that was answered very quickly and rather obscenely. One little guy was attempting to do what looked like breakdancing when he stopped (while upside down on the floor), put his hand between his legs and used his finger to simulate gay sex. That was a bit too much for me because gay or straight or whatever, it was plain frickin rude. The next stop was a bit more touristy... Coyote Ugly. Watching the whole Coyote Ugly girls dance thing was pretty fun and I did buy a t-shirt. So yeah, I was a tourist. lol The last bar was definitely THE BEST! It was the Dueling Pianos place. SO MUCH FUN! I am actually shocked that it was my favorite because I love to dance and this was not that type of bar. It was 2 guys at their pianos making snipes at each other and playing/singing songs. Certain songs would have the WHOLE bar singing. They ended the night with journey's "Don't Stop Believing" and I bet they could hear us in the other bars! That is another place I hope to go back to before moving. Of course, if it doesn't work out before then, I'll come visit Deb and make her take me!

After getting back to the motel, we sat for a while in the lobby. I don't think anyone was really ready to say goodbye. It felt good to be around other women who KNEW as no one else can. There are those who love me and try to understand, those who sympathize, but these women KNOW, and I was not quite ready to pull away from that connection I had made.

But early Sunday, I got back in my car and headed home. My dogs were very VERY happy to see me and not just because they missed me (sorry Nay- you know I am mean like that!). lmao I settled back into real life... my history books and a recording of Saturday night's NASCAR race. Yes, I even missed the race to spend the weekend in Austin... It was worth it!

To ALL my SISTER WIDOWS- Lots of Love!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EyzwNsjfP1I

(There are several "In Their Boots" videos from that weekend. This is just one)