Six years ago

Six years. I can't believe it's been six years. Sometimes I think about you so much that whole days are spent wondering where you are, wondering if I'll see you again one day... I wonder what your life would be like. Would you have a son? Would he have your eyes? Six years. It's a long time.

You really don't know how much your absence has left me stumbling around blind. In six months, we would have been married for six years. At least I like to think we would have been married that long, longer still. I like to imagine that you never left for Iraq. I like to pretend that didn't happen sometimes. It doesn't change it. It doesn't change that six years ago, you left. That six years ago, today, was the last time I saw your face. I try to pretend that didn't happen. And maybe in some reality it didn't. But in this one... I can't forget.

I remember the news. I felt like my heart had been ripped out and you had taken every ounce of happiness with you. I don't remember much after the Chaplain's eyes met mine. I became aware of a vast emptiness in my life. You were gone and this stranger, this man telling me that you were in a better place, stood in front of me. How could that be true when I wasn't with you, I thought. How could you be somewhere better when you'd told me the best place was with me? I couldn't think, I couldn't focus. The loss was all around me, the pain was constant and excruciating. I'd lost the first boy I'd ever loved. The boy I'd planned to marry. The boy who had kissed me first, who had given me my first valentine's day gift, who danced with me at a dance first. I'd lost the first boy who had touched my heart and soul and body. When I lost you, everything changed.

I remember when you were ten years old. Do you? Do you recall the first time we met? I was seven and scrawny and thought I was every match to you. You got mad when I did better at a race and pushed me down into the mud. Over the years things would change. We went from two kids who fought to two teenagers in young love. On your 18th birthday, you told me you were enlisting in the Marine Corps. I remember the fear I felt at that moment. I wasn't old enough to keep a Marine happy, only 15 and not nearly experienced enough. I hadn't even given you my body yet but you promised no pressure and you meant it. You waited nearly two more years. 

Your graduation was such a wonderful day. Your mother was so proud of you. She kept leaning over and whispering "That's my son! Can you believe it?" Her very own Hero son. I remember looking at you in your uniform for the first time and thinking "wow, this works." I remember your confident smile, it was so different than the one you had before the Marines trained you. You were no longer awkward or clumsy.

The following summer we went to your Dad's wedding and sat at the wedding party table. I didn't know anyone, not even your Dad but you said it wasn't important, they didn't know you, so knowing me wasn't a priority. I will never forget the pain in your eyes when you said that. That was our last summer together.

The day you were buried was the hardest day of my life until that point, in fact, it may be one of the hardest days I've ever gone through. I sat next to your mother, on the same side I sat when we first saw you become a Marine. I held her hand and this time there was no excitement. I think we were both so hallowed out and our strength was gone... I remember trying to stand, to put my hand on your casket one more time, I felt so weak. And now six years later, I feel a flash of pain, 100 times less great and it still hurts beyond what I ever expected.

Things are different now. The life that we were meant to live ended with you. The memories you gave me are mine. And you taught me so many important lessons... I learned so much about love and life and pain of loss from you...

I am with a good man. He's a Soldier, an officer, so different from you. I love him very much and he makes me feel like I matter more than anyone else. It took me a long time to get here. But he doesn't know your name. I'm not even sure I've really told him about you. I know I have mentioned you once or twice but you are mine. To me, your name, your face, our love, those are mine... I covet your memory on quiet rainy days and think about you. I miss you and a part of my heart, the only part that didn't break the day you died, the part that holds all the times before, all the whispered first love moments, still loves you with the power that could fly men to the moon. <3 I miss you. And I hope I'm making you proud..

Six years... how did so much time pass? 

I love you. Semper fi.

I will never stray

Just some thoughts

Here's some early morning, alone-time thoughts. Warning, you might not agree with this... but please read it all before you judge.

As Kurt Cobain once wrote, "you read, you die."

I have been watching Gilmore girls for days. I haven't gotten cable yet (trying to save money since I am just moving in) and it's so peaceful and doesn't remind me of real life other than my hopes for my daughter and I. I want another baby one day but I want another son. My daughter is my firstborn and she's beautiful and my miracle <3 I know that in some ways, she will always have this piece of my heart that is just a little bit bigger and if I have the relationship with her that Lorelie and Rory have, I would be a very happy mother. <3 My son, Jax, In some ways, I picture his future as a different one. He's big. Like football player, NFL future big. The doctors told me on his second birthday that he would be between 6'2 and 6'3. I was so amazed. I am only five 2. And his father isn't over six foot. He's also strong and smart. He uses his strength and agility to his advantage. He can hop my four and a half foot gate and he's not even three!! I imagine him playing football soon and being in high school, waiting for scholarships, getting one to send him to a good school and he can get a degree. then my dream splits. He can either go play for the NFL, (Personally I dream of him on the REDSKINS, completely my favorite team) and his life would be amazing. We're also a "generational military" family so my other dream involves him joining the Military as an officer and serving his country. I often dream of him in the Marine Corps. My third dream is simpler. I dream of him being a doctor. I mean, come on. What mom wouldn't be proud to have a son that's a doctor? <3 My daughter, I dream of her being an artist. But I am realistic and realize I'm passing my dreams as hers. I dream of her painting in Italy, sketching in Paris, playing small gigs in Amsterdam and New York City. <3

Anyways, I better get going. I just wanted to share some of my world.

i miss you

Did I mention I miss you? Well if not, I miss you. I love you so much, I can't wait for you to come home <3

the moon and love

The moon. I have always been drawn to it. Connected, in some inexplicable way. A silent kinship. There’s the moon, asking to stay. All my life, I’ve regarded it with a solemn reverence. For the tempestuous storm it brews. The ebb and flow. Love, lust, and longing. Sorrow and anguish. Strength and hope. Brazen resilience. An image of change. Of life itself. Birth and death and rebirth. Continuous incontinence. Everything amounts to this enormous beauty I know I will never fully be able to grasp. In all this, the moon reflects the heart of life. The kaleidoscope flux of the soul. The moon. It’s a cause for introspection. A mirror of who I have been, and a promise of who I can become.

I changed when you came into my life. Time and experience had left me rough around the edges. I learned to get on, without needing anything or anyone else. I never wanted to be different or try and be better for any other person. But then you happened. You showed me what it was to love. How beautiful it could be to share something like that with another person. And then I want to be better for you. I want to bloom for you. I want to hear you say you love me a year, two years, five years, a decade, five decades down the road. I want to grow old with you. I want to be yours only. I’m so proud of the man you are. I hope I make you proud too. I love you.

another dream about you

I had a dream about you last night. I'm not sure it was anything special but I woke up thinking about you. We were just laying in bed, cuddling and you were telling me about what you thought about something and I just kept listening to you speak as your heart beat through your chest... I love you and I miss you and I can't stop thinking about you... I hope you love me too.

I love you

we make a great team, don't you think?

he sees me

He sees me. He sees who am i. He sees what others are to busy or to blind to see. He sees me.

When I see problems, he sees the possibilities in them. Solutions where I can only see trouble. And I am thankful for that. A shoulder to lean on. A hand to hold. A person to love. That's him. And I absolutely adore him. Especially his morning smile. And they way he looks at the lifelines in my hands. How he follows them with the tips of his fingers. How it usually tickles. How he says: "I'm so proud of you." And I believe him. No matter what he says. I will believe him. And that is power. That is making yourself so vulnerable that it scares you but you still take the risk. The chance of letting yourself love - and be loved in return.

My butterflies become suicide bombers and throw themselves at the walls of my stomach when I see or hear your name. Which is a good feeling since it is the feeling that I have always associate with love. And that I can still feel it after 1 year makes me believe in us, believe in that we are forever.

We are forever

I wear love

So I have three bracelets I wear every day. I wear this charm bracelet my brother Jimmy got me, it's fake but he bought it for me when he was training with the British Special Forces. I wear a parachord bracelet that my brother Phil made me on his last deployment and this rubber bracelet from the 60th Anniversary of the town my daughter was born (where she was also the new years baby)...

Around my neck, I always wear the cross my Soldier bought me when he was home on R&R. It's an infinity cross, beautiful and white gold, which I prefer. I do have a cross I wear on special occasions though. It's a cross my Daddy brought be back from his deployment training in Italy. He bought a cross and went to Rome and had it blessed by two Cardinals. I am Catholic and my father is not, so having him do something so incredibly touching to honor my faith (when I confirmed) was beautiful, especially since he so rarely was home to be part of the ceremonies like that.Also around my neck are my Soldier's dogtags.

I also wear two rings. My promise ring, of course. And a ring that my best friend my whole life gave me eight years ago. He was a Marine and he died in the most honorable way. He died for us. I knew him from the time we were seven until his death. We hung out every summer, our families went camping together, our Dads were friends. I wear the ring on my right hand, middle finger. It's got a sapphire. It was my 18th birthday present, given a few months early, because he was being deployed. It's nothing fancy or really that beautiful. I remember at the time, I didn't wear it often. Then he died and it's context changed.

I carry my life with me. From my jewelry to what is in my purse. Inside my wallet are six pictures. Four of my kids, one of my father and then one of my brother, RJ. I also carry a guitar pick my brother Charlie gave me and a scarab my brother Brandon brought back from overseas. I try to carry something of theirs with me.

A psychologist might have their reasons, with clinical terms and all, but my reasons are simple as can be. I carry all this on me, with me, because I can't go home. My home is with me, wherever I am. I wear these things, these really inexpensive (for the most part) symbols of love. Of familial love, the love a brother has for a sister to pick her up something small from an airport just to show he'd been thinking about her, the love from a man to his 'girl' wanting her to wear his dogtags. It's love that I wear. That I carry. I carry these things and if a single one were to be lost, I'd be devastated not because of any worth, but because of what it means to me

I just wanted to tell you

 And

Rants

Politics. Ugh. I hate it. I look for the good qualities in every person I meet. Even if I don't like someone, I can usually find something nice to say. But at the same time, I will fight for what I believe in. I was born a "brat" and I think maybe the whole nature-nuture debate has something to learn. I grew up both in the states and in Europe, I lived among Americans and Europeans. I lived among our own Military and the Military of other Nations. Perhaps the way I think is different. Perhaps the way I consider the key things in life makes me odd. I don't know, but either way, I don't like feeling disappointed in the America I spent my childhood in. I don't like feeling sad by the school funding cuts, the Military pay freeze, the "Healthcare" plan that makes it harder for some deserving people to survive.... It disgusts me that everyone wants to pick on each other. STOP!!! Realize that first of all, the Media is a market-game. The Media doesn't care what is best, just who gets the best numbers. Look beyond the big names, look for the truth. Americans bought into Obama and it has left our Country fighting within itself, falling apart from our core. Something must change. Something must change at the very center of how America thinks.

Stop caring about how something looks. Care about what it is. Please pay attention. Get Outraged!!! Say something. Our men do not have the right, they gave that up with their oath. But we do. We can change things. We don't have to do it publicly. We can do it amongst ourselves, our friends, our families. So find out what is going on. Find out who is running and find out about them. And get involved at the beginning. Register to vote early so you can vote in the conventions of Repbulcians and democrats. Encourage your friends to the same. Just help the change. Help make the Country proud again as a whole. I am and will always be proud of where I came from, the Military and the good American people who care more about going hunting next weekend compared to those who care about the new expensive thing they just bought. I am proud to be from a culture within the American whole that realizes the most important things: family moments, strength and honor. I want an Honorable America

I'm going insane without you.

See?

it's true