Grief counselors say you need to tell your story at least a hundred times before it gets easier to tell, that it is in the telling that we begin to heal. It has been almost 2 years since Adam was killed and I still cannot say it out loud. I thought I would try to write it down. That way I don’t have to actually hear the words. I don’t know why I don’t want to hear them. It’s not like I don’t believe it. I know too well the reality of it all.
When I decided to write about it, I didn’t know where to start. I guess I will start on that awful day, even though the grieving for Adam started way before he died. I think it started the day he enlisted.
My husband, who had been a firefighter for over 30 years, was sworn in as the new Fire Chief on April 20, 2007. Six days later our world came crashing down. He and I were at a luncheon for a group of senior citizens who were graduating from a self-defense course. Danny was going to give out the diplomas. We were eating when Danny got a call from his office. He walked off to take the call. When he came back to me he said, “We have to go home, there are soldiers at our house”. I knew at that instant. Oh my God, this cannot be happening! I jumped up and got my purse and ran to the front door. I wanted to throw up.
Danny said maybe they were there just to tell us he was injured but I knew better. They don’t come to your house unless there is a death; he was dead.
We were 20 miles from our house. One of the Deputy Chiefs drove us home. I rode in the backseat. All the way home I kept saying, “it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real”, I begged God to please not let it be real! At one point on the way home I thought about jumping out of the car. We were going at least 65 miles an hour; if I just opened the door and jumped, it would be over, and I wouldn’t have to know the truth. I looked at the door handle and seriously considered jumping but I thought about my other 2 children and I couldn’t do it. Then it struck me, I didn’t know which one of my sons it was! I thought it was Adam but it might have been Josh! Josh wasn’t in Iraq yet but it still could have been him! Just a week before, Josh and his fellow soldiers were in a training accident. The Stryker they were in rolled over five times! Soldiers get killed in training accidents all the time! I didn’t know for sure which one of my boys it was until we pulled into the driveway and I saw the Marines get out of the van.
We got out of our car. I didn’t think my legs would hold me. For some strange reason, I kept squatting down, I felt like I couldn’t stand up. Maybe if I got low enough to the ground I would just disappear. I wanted to die, I asked God to just let me die. They wouldn’t tell us anything outside, they kept asking us if we could go inside. I’m not sure how I got up the stairs. My body felt so heavy, like someone had put sandbags on me. I felt like I could barely walk. When I got upstairs to the sofa, I sat, and then lay over on my side. It all felt so unreal. I just kept praying I would wake up. I don’t remember the words that were spoken; I knew from the look on their faces what they were there to tell me.
My son was dead. Killed 26 April 2007 at 10:30am Iraqi time. It would have been 1:30am our time. Shot by a sniper. His death wasn’t instant; he knew he had been shot. I have never asked what he said. I try not to think about that. I’m afraid to know but sometimes I do wonder; was he scared? Was he in pain? Was he thinking of us? Who was with him? Was he by himself? Maybe one day I will be able to ask these questions but for now, I can’t. I’m afraid, I’m afraid of the answers.
I have four messages from him on my answering machine. On one of them he says, “I’m just calling to let you know I’m alive”…I bought a new answering machine. I boxed up the one with his voice and put it in my closet. I was afraid of losing the messages and afraid of listening to it. I hope one day I will be able to listen to it but for now, I can’t.
