flashlight moments

This article below has so many similarities to how I often feel.  The details of the situation are obviously different than Ryan's, but the shock and trauma are the same.  And the need for "flashlight moments" are the same.  Just wanted to share.

Link to original article:

http://www.taps.org/HopeHelpHeal/Little/#.V-lxj8lh7gc.facebook

Flashlight Moments by Ami Little
At 4 a.m. on July 20, 2015, I received a text message from my husband telling me to call the police and tell them where to find him. After a total of 36 months in Iraq and Afghanistan, he suffered from post-traumatic stress tied to a traumatic brain injury. Jimmy did seek help when it was provided, but for another year and a half he was unable to seek help either due to lack of availability or the fear of his career and reputation being ruined. Unfortunately, the light was no longer there, and he ended his life before the sun could rise that morning.

I became a widow at the age of 23. I felt confused. I felt lost. I felt alone. But more than those feelings, I felt guilty that I was unable to save him. Unfortunately, other people also felt that way. From relatives to distant friends, the number of fingers directing the blame to me increased. Quickly, my moments that were meant to be spent grieving the loss of my husband turned into looking at myself in the mirror wanting to join him.

Looking back, I understand why people pointed the finger. It was because of a lack of knowledge on post-traumatic stress and traumatic brain injuries. At that time, I did not even understand the effects these things had on an individual, their relationships with family and friends, and the strain it put on a marriage. I did not realize that all these pieces, these moments that I was questioning, were the effects of these invisible injuries.

About six months after my husband died, someone placed their prescription eye glasses on my face and asked me how everything appeared. I stated that everything looked fuzzy. That is when I realized that my husband saw everything in this fuzzy manner. Nothing appeared clear for him.

All of these little pieces, these little moments I kept questioning, were parts of a puzzle. After months of rearranging the pieces, researching, talking to doctors and veterans, I finally put all of the pieces together. The final picture that this puzzle provided, once complete, answered the who, what, when, where, why and how of the post-traumatic stress and traumatic brain injuries that claimed my husband's life. Part of completing that puzzle was fighting through my own struggle with mental illness caused by the loss of my husband and the tragic events that took place after his death.

That is when I found hope - when my flashlight turned on. The most healing aspects of it all have been the countless opportunities I have been given to pass hope, to hand over the flashlight, to someone else. I have decided that I will channel my grief into something bigger than myself. Since then, I have been able to speak words of hope and encouragement to veterans who are fighting this battle, pray with spouses and families of veterans for strength and guidance on supporting their loved ones during this journey, and to continue putting one foot in front of the other every single day. I continue to honor my husband by letting the aftermath of my loss be the flashlight for someone else.

I realize that staying silent does not make a difference in this suicide epidemic. Sharing my story, sharing my husband's story, could be what changes everything for someone else. It could be their flashlight moment. 

Ami Little, surviving spouse of Sgt. James Donald Little, III