Friday, September 30, 2011


Even though sometimes we just don't want to do something, we must. I felt that last week more than ever up to this point since my husband was killed in Afghanistan on August 1st.
I bought a home.
Not a house that we will live in for three years and then move to a new one.
A home, where I will raise our three young boys to be men. I can imagine now the holidays that we will spend there; though bittersweet, we will learn to plant our roots.
Though we are blessed beyond measure that we are taken care of, I still lost my husband.
Sometimes I just don't want to do it, I don't want to buy a house without him; this isn't how it was supposed to be! We made plans for this, we were saving for this, and now it's here, in my lap, so soon.
All I want is him. His touch, his smile, his occasional laugh, his hand to hold, his body to spoon at night, his tight hugs and sweet kisses he'd give me as soon as he walked in or right before he walked out of the door. He was never the man that you had to remind to say "I love you" when getting off of the phone, he would sometimes remind me if I were distracted and didn't say it.
His unit is now coming home from Afghanistan, minus five brave souls who gave the ultimate sacrifice, including my husband, my soul mate.
We all throw around the term "ultimate sacrifice" for those who have lost their lives in battle, but what really is the ultimate sacrifice? Here is what it means in my heart:

1. My husband not being here for the birth of our third son.
2. Never being able to meet our son, Quentin Isaiah.
3. Not buying a house with me, his WIFE, and growing old together in that home.
4. Not seeing Tyson go to preschool.
5. Never seeing his sons graduate from high school, hopefully college, and get married.

The list goes on and on, but I won't bore everyone with the thoughts that are overbearing my mind these days. The pain and grieving is beginning to really set in as reality is hitting my like a freight train. I knew it was coming, once the guys came home, but I always dreaded the way I would feel when it did hit me. Of course, being almost 8 months pregnant (31 weeks today!), isn't helping my emotions at all as I'm one big hormonal mess these days.

I will be taking a break from Facebook for a few weeks, as this time is much harder than I thought it would be. I am beyond happy for the families that have their Marine and Sailors back, but it's probably best if I don't see all of the pictures and let my imagination run wild with the "what-if's" of my husband's death. If you need to contact me, please email me at

Sunday, September 4, 2011


Some days are harder than others, but I've noticed even more that some moments are harder than others. There are moments of guilt, anger, sadness, and joy.

I feel guilty for the times we spent fighting over silly things, things that don't matter in the grand scheme of things; but then I remember that those things are what makes a marriage strong, because it causes two people to communicate and work their differences out together.

At times I feel angry because I hated how much my husband was gone, not just on deployment, but also training and working. I feel jipped sometimes, like I only had five years with him, but we were hardly ever together.

I feel sadness when I look at my favorite picture above. I feel sad when I look at pictures of Luke and our sons. I feel the most sad when I think about the fact that Q will never meet his daddy, and when I think of the holidays we will never have together.

When these feelings come to mind, I push them far away. I remember things, and then I try to forget them temporarily. Not permanently, because I never want to forget how he used to kiss me, hold my hand, laugh, talk, sleep, smile; I don't want to forget how he used to do anything. But I feel that if I shove it out of my brain temporarily, it will make it easier to handle later on when I think of it again. I couldn't even touch him at the funeral because I could not bear to remember him as cold and lifeless; I only want to remember him the way he was when he would hold my hand so tight he left a permanent bruise on my ring finger.

And after I feel all of these things, I feel joy. I am joyful because I know that Luke is in a better place, a much better place than we are. He is in heaven, rejoicing and praising the Lord! I find even more joy because I know I'll be there with him one day. And then I remember, even when I feel those moments of anger, that God carefully orchestrated all of this and has a plan for our family. Exactly a month after I lost my love, a friend gave me this verse and every time I try to forget the painful memories that will never be relived again, this puts things back into perspective for me:

Philippians 1:3 "I thank my God upon every remembrance of you"