A Picture Worth Ten Thousand Words

I see your smile and the day brightens,
like sunlight through a window.

What a surprise when I scrolled down the page.
Seeing your beautiful face took my breath away.
My son, my wonderful son.

Seeing your smile, brought a smile to my face,
and it was as if.....
as if you were just gone somewhere for training,
or on deployment,
and you posted a picture with your buddy/brother to say,
"Hey, here I am! I'm doing well."

Refreshing and uplifting.
Your smile, the twinkle in your eyes,
the certainty of joy, and peace.
You were in your element,
loving life.

It brought peace and joy to my heart.

 I sat and enjoyed the presence of your smile,
the spirit of all you are,
right there in the image
that is you.

I scrolled down some more.
Shock.
The room began to spin.
I felt sick.
Another photo - with headlines
"Skydiving Training Accident."

It was like a bad dream.
How could it be?
There was the familiar aerial image -
the flag covering the body,
military brothers close by.

But, it happened two years ago.
Why would it be posted now?
It didn't make sense,
yet I knew what I was seeing.

I read the news report.
The date was yesterday morning.
There must be some mistake.
How could it be yesterday, when is was clearly a sad, familiar picture?

I continued reading.
The man was in the Navy.
That was not my son.
No, he was someone else's son.
In the same place,
doing the same thing,
when a malfunctioning parachute
ended his time here on this earth.

My heart broke for the family of this young man.
They would have gotten the knock at the door.
They would've heard the same words we
heard that early morning at one thirty, about Caleb.
"There has been an accident.
There was a problem with your son's parachute.
I'm afraid there was a malfunction...."

My world came crashing in once again -
At the same time I thought of the family, and the  young Navy Seal.

So close....
two elite groups of men train in similar places - Recon Marines and Navy Seals.
Different.
Yet, brothers.

There was some criticism out there about the photo.
It broke my broken heart.
Yes, it was terrible.
That was someone's son.

I know.

I saw almost the very same picture -
the flag covering the body, not that long ago.
It was hard.
It hurt a lot to know that was my son.
And yet,
from my perspective -

There was honor.
Not shame.

The American flag covered  his body.
What better way to protect, to respect,
to silence those who don't understand.
Nothing else would have sufficed.
The way it should be for any patriot who sacrificed his life.

There was honor in his life.
There was honor in that picture.

He gave his life for that flag.
He knew what that flag stood for.
He believed in what it meant.
He knew the history, the many thousands of
lives that were sacrificed for the
liberty that flag represents.

No, I didn't see it as shameful.
There are many things in this world that are shameful.
Many things that should not be shown, and yet are exploited
and nothing is said.

My perspective -

There was honor beneath that flag.
I salute my son.
I salute the young Navy Seal.

I go to sleep tonight
with a heavy heart for the family who is beginning this hard journey.
Yet, I am granted once more a glimpse of greatness.
I can see the smile on my son's face.
I see
the image of my son who could stand in peace and confidence, with a smile
because he stood for liberty, and freedom.

There is no shame in that.

March 6, 2013 - I Remember

It's been 739 days
since the last time Caleb and I chatted - his birthday, February 25, 2013.

Two years today, 730 days ago, we paid tribute to his life.
Somehow it doesn't seem like it's been two years.

It still seems like a dream.

I wake up and for a second it's like old times when we were all together.
Then, the next second, it hits again -
The rip-your-heart-out, gut-wrenching feeling...nothing is the same.
Missing Caleb so much.

Days like this, I swallow the big lump in my throat.
Tears come.
Memories.....

What I remember about two years ago -
Early in the morning, before the
'busy' started, I took Griz for a walk.
We walked to the funeral home so Griz could say farewell  to his buddy,
his master.
I stood before the flag draped casket, guarded by two Marines at all times.
Griz sat.
I put my head on the casket, covering the flag with tears.
"Thank you."
That was all I could say.
"Thank you Caleb. I love you."
"Thank you.
Thank you for being a wonderful son.
Thank you for caring about us.
Thank you for being so generous.
Thank you for the laughter.
Thank you for making us laugh.
Thank you for being in our lives.
Thank you for being so strong and brave.
Thank you for being my son....
Thank you for loving us, for loving God.
Thank you....."

All the while, Griz sat by the head of the casket.
Like he knew.
He sat at attention for Caleb.
I wish I had a picture of that.
But, it is forever in my heart.

From February 27 to March 6 there was a steady stream of visitors, phone calls,
food, flowers.
This day was just as busy.
As we were getting ready for the service, the doorbell continued to ring.

Two hours before the service we were to meet....at the funeral home?
I think so....
We followed the funeral car and honor guard to the high school where the service would be held..

When we got to the school,
students stood, lining the halls.
I will never forget.
I don't know who they all were,
but I am filled with gratitude for those who stood for
a few hours in silence, waiting for us to arrive.

It was like a dream, walking behind the flag draped casket....
a reminder of my son's sacrifice.
I'd seen this sad scene over and over in the news, in movies,
but this was not a movie - it was not someone else's life.
This was real life - my life.

I remember being back in the commons area before the service, after the casket was set in the gym.
I remember, crowds of people
coming in every door.
People coming from every direction with words of comfort - so heartfelt and sweet,
but it was too much at that time.
We needed a time away from the public.
The school secretary locked the door leading to the commons area,
so we could just 'be' for a few minutes before the service started.

I looked around, and Marines surrounded us.
What a comfort.
These were Caleb's brothers.

As we lined up,
Mark, Caleb's Recon brother, was right beside me.
The Marines walked in and sat with us.
I remember - I was firm on that.
They would sit with us.
They are family.

While waiting to walk in,
the words that poured from my heart at that time -
The joy of the Lord is my strength.
The joy of the Lord is my strength.
Over and over...it would be His strength that would get me through.

I remember Pastor Viergutz praying.
I think Psalm 23 was recited...anyway, I remember it was in my thoughts (that was the psalm my husband recited to me many times during those days and nights. He'd finish and I'd ask him to read it again and again.)

When we got to the door of the gym and I looked inside
at the flag draped casket, the flowers, the hundreds of people.
My knees turned to jello,
but just as quick, the Lord strengthened me.
My arm in Mark's, there was strength from him, from my husband, from so many prayers being said on our behalf.

The gym was filled with people standing in silence,
there to honor my son.

That was what it was about.
Honoring Caleb's life.

When we were planning the service,
we wanted  people to know Caleb.
If there was anyone there who didn't really know him,
we wanted them to leave with a knowing
about this wonderful son who lived life with purpose,
and wanted nothing less for others.

Since March 2013,
many people have told me they left the service feeling like they knew Caleb.
His life touched theirs.
He impacted and changed their lives.

I miss my son so much, and this is a difficult day,
but knowing his life lives on in all the lives he touched,
helps so much.

Yes, in the midst of the sorrow there is joy.
In a stream of tears there is a smile.

Thank you Caleb.
♥