Thursday evening we arrived at the hotel where the TAPS seminar was being held for the weekend. I was overwhelmed by the reception we received. This huge hotel in Arlington was literally taken over by the TAPS organization. Every guest was a military family survivor and TAPS staff, personnel, huggers, and signs were everywhere. TAPS workers are all military loss surivors as well. Just to give you a mental picture, even the hotel key and the elevator floor were covered in the TAPS logos. People were at the door wearing buttons that said "I am a hugger" and everywhere we went someone was there to ask how we were doing and what we needed. Each person at the seminar is given a lanyard to wear with their branch of service, relationship to their loved one, and a photo button to pin on. So, for example, when I stepped into an elevator with some random stranger, I could immediately see that the other person was a spouse or parent of someone - and see that person's picture. So when others smiled at me or I smiled at them, it meant something - it was a sign of comfort. I could step in an elevator and say, "when did you lose your husband?" or "what was your son's name?" and an instant bond was formed. It was wonderful to step into my hotel hallway and have someone randomly say something to me about my Ryan. How I love to hear about him and talk about him. But we checked in that Thursday night, received all our "TAPS gear," our weekend schedule, and then retreated to our room feeling kind of overwhelmed by the emotions of it all.
Friday morning began by dropping the children off at their Good Grief Camps. I was amazed to find out that each child was paired with their own mentor buddy for the weekend. These mentors are either active duty military members or former TAPS kids that have now grown up and return to mentor new TAPS kids - and they all volunteer their time the whole weekend just to love on and play with the children attending camp. The mentors stay with their mentee all weekend in their small groups, where the kids meet together to do grief work with licensed counselors, play games, do crafts, take field trips into DC, attend field day, eat together, and just spend a whole weekend celebrating the loved ones they have lost together. There was a "family tree" in the upper lobby of the hotel with all the pictures of the dads, moms, brothers, sisters, and family members of those at the seminar that died while serving. We found Ryan's picture on the tree and I saw Charlie's eyes get really big as he realized just how many pictures were up there and that all the kids he was spending the weekend with had all lost their dads (or moms or siblings). In fact, Charlie's mentor was a former mentee and had lost his dad. Katherine's mentor was a sweet lady currently on active duty. Both children's small group leaders where licensed marriage, family, and grief therapists, Kate's was from the DC area and Charlie's from Camp Pendleton in California.
After the kids were dropped off at camp, I attended the "survivors of suicide meet and greet session." I was humbled, sorrowed, and also comforted to meet these other widows and parents from all over the United States. The pain they felt is one we all share. And yet there was a comfort to be surrounded by those who "get it" and have similar stories. I understand now why they have that meet and greet the very first morning, because throughout the weekend when I would look for a table to sit at during lunch or dinner, I would seek out the familiar faces from that session (and vice versa) and I got to know some other widows who are walking the same journey I am - of "only" parenting their military children through grief after the loss of their husband to suicide. Military wives are a unique set of women who have the capacity to love fiercely and quickly, because we have lived a life that demands we do that before we pick and up and move again. But at these TAPS events, I see these military widows who have an even more beautiful perspective. Each of us are from different states, different backgrounds, and had different personalities, but we all share the common thread of that military life that ended so abruptly, followed by the shock, pain, and anguish of putting together the pieces left behind. The stories and the pain and the healing were all so familiar - these other ladies became my family instantly. TAPS mottos is "you are not alone," and goodness, what a feeling it is to experience that and know it.
I won't go into too much detail about the weekend, other than to say I was blessed. We met so many "important" people, Generals, Chiefs of Staff, the US Secretary of Defense, chef Robert Irvine - but what was most impressive was the compassion everyone showed. Everyone took the time to ask how each person was doing and listen to each others stories. And it shocked me how well my children did. Katherine initially was not dropped off at camp, I am sure she was fearful about what kind of emotions it would evoke while surrounded by complete strangers - I get that. I get that. But she fully participated and even seemed to enjoy herself. I think it was more healing for her than my teenager is going to let me know. ;) Charlie, however, took to it in a way I did not expect. My normally clingy little guy woke up Saturday and Sunday mornings demanding we get going to breakfast so he wouldn't be late for his camp. He loved every moment of it in a way I didn't expect. I get tears in my eyes when I think about how much this camp meant to my children - a safe place to celebrate and remember their daddy, with other children struggling to do the same, while mentors and counselors loved them, hugged them, played with them, and helped them express their feelings and their grief through games, art, music, and even yoga. And for me, it was amazingly healing to go to my sessions, travel through DC, meet other wives, and just have a safe place with people who fully and completely get it all. I found myself crying at random times - once during lunch when the music playing just moved me to tears and I couldn't stop the bawling - and the other women at my table nodded and said they knew exactly how I felt and handed me tissues. A few ladies who have done this annual event before made sure to tell me that they were just like that their first event too and hugged me. Other times I found myself laughing uncontrollably out of sheer joy. One late evening after the adults had finished their evening dinner banquet we were waiting for the kids' buses to return to the hotel from their field day and we had about an hour to just wait. I found myself at a table (at the bar in the lobby, even though I don't drink) with the other widows I had gotten to know and we were just laughing and sharing stories together, a little bit giddy from lack of sleep and enjoying being "childless" for an evening, knowing our children were in good hands. It was so amazing to just hear others' frustrations, pains, sorrows, and find a way to laugh about it all. Knowing we are not alone in this journey is an amazing feeling.
Monday was Memorial Day. Through TAPS, we were able to attend the wreath laying and presidential address at Arlington National Cemetery. It was a beautiful tribute, complete with the 21-gun salute and the playing of Taps, both of which the Air Force Honor Guard did for Ryan at his funeral. I had not heard the 21 guns or that tune since Ryan's funeral almost a year ago, so it brought tears to my eyes. The gunfire brought the tears to the surface and I lost it when the bugle started playing. I was surrounded by Gold Star families from TAPS, that know those symbols all too well, so there was not a dry eye in my section. But it was a memorable way to spend Memorial Day and I am so thankful for that opportunity. Monday afternoon we went back to Bolling AFB, where we lived for three years while Ryan was assigned to WHCA. We drove through our old neighborhood, our house, and all the familiar sites there. I had thought that the weekend at the seminar and the Memorial Day ceremony would be the most emotional aspects for me, but I was wrong. Driving around Bolling AFB and past our house was by far the hardest. I am not entirely sure I was ready to do that yet but the kids wanted to, so we did. I had this urge to just walk into that house (that a Coast Guard family now obviously inhabits) and wait inside the door for Ryan to show up and hug me. I am crying as I type those words because that feeling was so strong and still in my heart. So many happy memories in that house, so many difficult memories. SO many memories. Luckily, after the little house detour, we headed for my children's favorite place on Bolling - the pool! We went to the base pool for the afternoon where families we love and adore that are still in the DC area met up with us there. It was wonderful seeing my children swimming, playing, and splashing with friends they had not seen in several years, just as if they were together yesterday. The resiliency and love that military children have amazes me. I loved having an afternoon to just lounge on a pool chair with my precious friends, while my children swam with theirs. So many of our summer hours were spend just like that over the years. And Charlie finally passed the Bolling swim test for the first time and earned the green band he so desperately wanted a few years ago! (Those of you who lived there with us know what I'm talking about! :)
Tuesday we went back down to the National Mall with some dear friends to stop in at some of the favorite museums my children have walked through dozens of times but wanted to re-see: the Hope Diamond, hall of gems, hall of meteorites, hall of fossils, the insect zoo, the Star Spangled banner, the movie hall, the First Lady's dresses, etc... (You can probably guess which of those were Kate's choices and which were Charlie's...). My children knew these museums like they know their own home and yet still wanted to go back through and see if anything had changed. The American History Museum moved Dorothy's ruby slippers and replaced them with Indiana Jones' hat and whip. My children have mixed feelings on whether they agree with that decision or not... :) Tuesday night we drove up to Hotel Hershey in Hershey, Pennsylvania. My sister and I had planned this as a surprise for the kids. I really did not know how receptive my children would be to the weekend with TAPS and in their grief camps, so I figured if the whole weekend ended up being a miserable failure (which it wasn't!), that at least we would end the trip with some chocolate!
We had a great time in Hershey - the kids loved it and we ate way too much chocolate. The town literally smells like chocolate and the streetlamps are shaped like Hershey kisses. And Pennsylvania in the springtime is nothing short of gorgeous! It was a great way to end the week in DC. We flew out of Baltimore early Wednesday morning, June 1st. I did not realize when I booked our tickets to and from DC months ago that June 1st is also the day that Ryan, the kids, and I left Texas last year. June 1st we left our home in Texas for the last time to travel to California. One year ago we were arriving in California together, our last family vacation. We spend the first part of June visiting family, taking the kids to Universal Studios, and just having the best time. One year ago Ryan was making memories with us that he knew (but we did not know) were his last and his gift to us was the strength to pull all that together. June 1-10, 2016 were some of my happiest memories - of Ryan smiling and laughing and enjoying vacation time with his family. He seemed so happy those 10 days here in CA. How Ryan had the strength to do that for us, when struggling against the worst pain of his life hidden deep inside, I will not know on this side of heaven. June 10, 2016 was the last time I saw Ryan in person (we skyped between the 10th and 24th but the 10th was the last time I hugged him). I hugged Ryan good-bye at the Santa Maria airport - and I remember him fiercely hugging me, letting go, and saying he wished he could hold me one more time - I told him he would in just over a week and he didn't really answer. In hindsight, he was saying his final good-bye to me. A gift he gave to me.
So yesterday as our plane was landing at LAX and I was admiring the coastline as we drove up the coast from LA to "home," I was filled with emotions. I spend the last 15 years of my life living other places and feeling so homesick for California. Our trips here were always bittersweet, too short, and too far between. We would fly into CA and I would see the ocean and I instantly feeling calmed and happy to be visiting. I remember sobbing each time we left California over the years and Ryan would apologize for being the thing to take me away from "home," and I would explain to him that nothing was his fault. That wherever he was, was home. That I chose him, I chose this crazy military lifestyle, and I would always, always choose him again and again over living in CA - it just would be nice to have both. He understood the homesickness I felt inside, because he shared it too, I could see it in his eyes - he just did not express the outward emotions I did. So yesterday I had that same wave of emotion I have felt so many times upon "returning" to California, but this time not because my visit would be too short or too much time would pass between visits, but because I was returning "home" to a home the kids and I have built here.
I don't even really know how to process the emotions I feel today. There is a deep, deep sorrow about being able to live here without Ryan. There are years of emotional airport memories about times coming and going from our beloved California - the emotional months I stayed here in CA while Ryan was in the Middle East, the good-byes and the welcoming hugs to both Ryan and my extended family with each arrival and departure, drives up and down the central coast. Just so much to process. And the hardest part of it all was the fact that I boarded a plane in Baltimore and arrived off a plane in Los Angeles, and there was not a hello hug or a good-bye hug on either end - as Ryan was not on either end of those flights, like he would have been all those years past, and my extended family is now home, so there was not the emotion of leaving them or returning to them like I have had before. I just feel kind of lost today processing how I took a weeklong trip back to a memorable place, boarded flights like I've done so many times before but this time is so completely different, and it all happening on the one year anniversary of our last family trip together. One year ago today I was leaving Texas and arriving back in CA for the "final" time, without even knowing I was. I know this is all part of my grief journey and that jet lag is probably complicating my emotions but goodness, God, please just protect and care for my precious aching heart today and this whole month of June as I process what happened a year ago in the wake of such a beautiful and precious weekend spent remembering Ryan and learning with others how to heal on this same journey we travel on. Joy and pain, all mixed together.
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| Charlie and his mentor buddy |
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| TAPS Family Tree |
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| Kate at Good Grief Camp |
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| Tracy and I at the Pentagon |
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| downtown Hershey |
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| evening reception at the Pentagon |
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| my little animal lover |
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| Hershey, PA |
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| Arlington Cemetery ceremony |
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| DC by night |
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| precious friends at the pool |
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| Kate & her friend |
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| Charlie and his friend |
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| our DC house |
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