Author: kirsten (Page 2 of 10)
When my youngest son Justin was born, and I held him for the first time, I said, “I’m so happy to see you” in a high-pitched voice, over and over. When he was little, I’d say it to him randomly, and told him the story of the first time I saw him. We have joked a few times, when I visit him, I still say it (in the baby voice).
Fast forward, he gets on the bus to Fort Benning the day after he turned 18, and he turned 19 less than a month ago.
Due to covid, I didn’t see him march for his high school diploma, turn green after basic, turn blue after infantry, or get his wings pinned to his chest after airborne school. I didn’t see his first promotion ceremony and might not see the next.
If you have access to the internet, you see the conflict to the east. Four thousand troops are deploying, most from the 82nd where my son is stationed.
I was so proud to learn that was his first duty station. But also super happy. Its drivable you see. I have visited him five times since he got there 6 months ago. Several trips were in-and-outs due to car issues, but we always at least had a good meal together, and shopped whenever we got a chance.
A few weeks ago, right after his birthday, his brother and I went down and we got to hit the range on base. It was fun.
On our grocery run, the store didn’t have the right noodles he likes, so when I got home, I got two cases of it. They’re on the floorboard of my truck now, ready for the next visit.
But, he just pinged me for cash for his IRF list. That means immediate response force. That means, he is probably getting on a plane soon.
Today I looked at the noodles and I searched for air in my lungs, but there was none.
There aren’t words or emotions that I know of that can explain what this feels like.
I am proud, I am supportive. I know this is what he answered the call for. He wants his combat patch.
All I can do now is wait.
It will be difficult to see the voices on social, hating on our troops. I don’t know if I can stomach it.
You hate us when we are there, and when we leave, and when we come back. People having not earned the right to approve or disapprove, type away with whatever opinions they’re told to have, with nothing at stake. That same right, however, ironically, that you don’t have to earn, on the backs of men like my son, doing something you can’t even fathom.
I see his older brother regretting not joining, and wonder if this will push him further in that direction. I think part of him feels like as the big brother, he was supposed to do it first. And I know he wants to be there with him, defending him and having his 6. I can’t imagine what his heart feels like right now. He and I committed a while back, when his brother deploys, we’re going to stop drinking and go hardcore on the workouts. So, there’s that…
On another note entirely, one of the last things my mother (who I haven’t spoken to now in 14 months) said to him is, “You will likely die on the front lines in Afghanistan” – and that is a whole other thing in my head taking up too much space. Thanks Mom.
Now I make what no longer feels involuntary breaths. You breath without thinking about it, I don’t. I’m bursting and numb.
I can’t wait to say, “Happy to see you” to him again. And give him lots of noodles.
If I can ruck 30 miles (almost a 50k) with a 20 lbs backpack, in sandals, with no training, 20 lbs overweight, without properly dressing, packing or eating – I CAN GET BACK ON THE ULTRA TRAIL AND KILL IT.
And I think my son learned/proved, that he is an ultra runner too – and – it’s time for us to start training and registering for races.
It’s a mental thing more than anything.
We’d ((I’d mostly)) be like, Fuck this I’m done – Then Will would turn on an Army cadence or a podcast clip from David Goggins (the baddest mother fucker alive) and we would legit start running hard – like 9 min miles out of no where. And we’d look up at maybe a power tower or a group of people (moving targets suck) or some other landmark and one of us would call out the mark and we would haul ass.
Blisters, sciatica, the friction on my shoulders from the rucksack, because I stupidly wore a tank….none of it mattered when we did those bursts.
It actually hurt more when we were walking than it did on the uphill trecks or running bursts. If my lungs weren’t struggling, my body would not have stopped.
So now we know – Athletic Equation Adventure Trail Series, here we come!!!
Does anyone else feel like it’s all a competition? How we look, how we spend our time and where and with whom? What we do with our money and how much we [appear to] have.
To look a certain way or accomplish things? Our homes, our jobs, our cars, kids, even our social posts and how they reflect what we’re doing and where we are going.
A lot of it is just perception and what we are focusing on from one minute to another will determine which of the many things we are trying to measure up on gets the most effort, but – its constant.
It never stops.
Did you vote? For whom? What issue are you valiantly supporting why you exercise that power you have?
How do you justify it’s importance? If you care about someone’s right to get married or a woman’s right to choose what to do with her own body, does that mean you don’t care about how much of a paycheck someone deserves for their hard work or their right to own a gun to protect themselves?
Everyone is judging you. Everyone has an opinion on your opinion. Everyone.
Hell, even when you speak at work or about work, everyone who sees it or hears it is ready to tell you if you even deserve your spot on the proverbial table, regardless of your contributions or expertise.
And that feeling they now refer to as Imposture Syndrome, may very well be because right after you do or say anything, there’s a chance you’ll be corrected and condemned for it by the masses.
All of this to say, maybe, just maybe, if we were less impulsive and more slow to action – even if that only means counting in our heads before we talk or type, that little bit of extra care and discipline would help us be easier on everyone around us – and ourselves.
My youngest son, Justin has really found his groove in the Army. In less than 48 hours he will begin the 96 hours Forge to complete Basic Combat Training. The next day, 6 days from now, he will graduate and Turn Green, becoming an American Solider.
In the same way that the school system that was set up hundreds of years ago, doesn’t work for all students, not everyone is cut out to succeed in the military.
His brother was that kid who thrived in school and I’m not saying he never struggled or worked hard, but let’s just say, he’s just one of those guys, who glitters and shines. Justin, didn’t. He is just as smart and talented, he just didn’t conform. I had him in IEP and got tutors and sent him to math clinics. I spent zillions on a psychologist who specialized in learning, who was blown away by how Justin scored in certain areas “off the charts” and was so below average in others. I know, and she agreed, it was a choice to him.
If he wanted to write stories, he wrote brilliant tales. If he wanted to make music, he’d lock himself in his room and pump out track after track. But there was never an organized music or writing project or program anyone could interest him in.
I sent samples of his work to a private music school that people auditioned for and spend thousands to go to. They invited him to come in for a tour, offered him a scholarship, and he declined.
I remember him telling me one day, “Mom, its like I’m a fish in the forest. It doesn’t matter how good I can swim, I can’t climb trees and there is no water.”
He had zero interest in proving anything to anyone or earning any sort of accolades. I remember making an outlandish incentive for him his sophomore year. He was barely passing most of his classes, as usual, and I said, “You want a 4-wheeler, I’ll get you one, if you can bring home a straight A report card.”
I shit you not – he did it.
I got him the 4 wheeler (a really nice one) – and then his grades just slid again and we spent the next few years of high school barely passing. I couldn’t motivate him.
He listened to a lot of podcasts like Jocko, and he had it in his head for a long time, that he was going to join the Army right after graduation and become an Airborne Ranger. That was it. That clicked for him, I saw the switch turn, it was all he wanted.
I was concerned he wouldn’t pass MEPs because of either his ADHD, his celiac or the fact that he is almost complete deaf on one side and partial on the other. Not only did he pass, he passed without waiver. When I asked him how the hell he passed the hearing test he said, Its just patterns, I guessed right.
That means he didn’t just guess right at MEPs, he did it at reception too. I literally saw other SITs getting sent home for failing the hearing test.
He was supposed to be wearing a hearing aid most of his life, but he refused. Eventually, partially for cost, we stopped fighting him and he learned to just ‘adjust and figure it out’.
When Justin puts his mind to something, he is all in. As his mom, all I can do is support him.
Speaking of support, I have supported the DOD by way of building teams, helping active service members transition to civilian and find employment for vets. The majority of the work I have supported in last 12+ years, has been primarily DOD. I followed Justin’s recruitment journey closely and was very involved, as much as he would let me, in the negotiation of his contract. In my heart I know, this is a golden opportunity for him to finally get his groove and be challenged, motivated and rewarded.
So far its working. He sees other soldiers in training who cry at night, are miserable and some even attempted suicide. This doesn’t make him better than them, its just not for everyone.
He has told us some pretty cool stories in his letters to include:
- A snake he had to kill
- Fire-ants he sat on
- The dude that had to get punched in the jaw by the DI (he really needed it)
- A bet on a football game that he lost with a DI that resulted in him having to lunge around with his gun over his head
- The tornado that rolled through while they were on night range, followed by a flood, and how they had to respond
I’ve never missed anyone so much in my life, diluted only by my overwhelming pride. Worried isn’t the right word but I do have to just sit around waiting and wondering what’s happening all the time and hoping to see a picture or get a call. I guess I am in training too, as that will be the new normal, pretty much for the length of his Army career, however long that ends up being.
So cheers to our soldiers, and all they go through, as well as their loved ones and families.
2020 took away his chance to march for his diploma, go to prom, have senior week and even the big trip we had planned for spring break. Now his dad and I dont get family days or the chance to see him get his black beret or blue chord. But we are so proud and seeing what we can virtually!!!
Bless you son – Can’t wait to hear about the Forge, watch you turn green, then watch you turn blue, then get your wings….and on and on!
Yesterday, I was walking with someone, a short distance at a moderate pace, and I said, “It didn’t seem this far going out as it does heading back”
Granted, we had just met that day, but they responded, “Have you ever ran a 5k”
I don’t expect them to know what I have done, so all I said was, “Yeah, a couple”
And its in my head today.
Not because they did anything wrong at all – but because I feel pathetic.
Here is what I didn’t say:
Yes, Yes I have run a few 5ks, but its not my favorite distance. My actual favorite distance is 50k, and tomorrow, coincidentally, is the 9 year anniversary of my first one, and have since run, ten 50ks, two 50 milers, one 100k, and 8 full (40k) and 13 halfs (20k).
But I didn’t refrain from saying it just because it would be rude – I didn’t say it because who would look at me, right now, 20+ lbs over weight and totally out of shape, and think I did any of those things in recent years? Hell, I couldn’t even ride the 40 mile gravel grinder today that I rode a year ago.
I likely had covid and I still get out of breath, but thats not an excuse. I also have a lot of stressful things piled over each other right now – one after another – but also, not an excuse.
So many folks I know have taken some advantage of the covid situation and gotten into shape and lost weight. I have gained a significant amount!
And so, I rode a little today. And maybe, after my meetings and errands, I’ll go for a run tonight.
One step at a time everyone.
That athlete version of me is still in there and I’ll get through all this crap I’m going through (most of which I can’t even talk about) and get my shit together.
I hope you’re all well.
Love, K
There is a long standing tradition in my family of service.
My mother’s father and both fathers’ fathers, both served in WWII. So, three of my grampas!
My father was a police officer for ~40 years and served his last two decades in Chief capacity.
My brother is a Chief of a fire department in one of the largest, busiest, most dangerous metropolitan areas of our country.
Although I have not served directly, I have dedicated the better part of my career, serving service members, through work and volunteer activities. My team and I build teams made up heavily of veterans, our workforce is 50% vets, DOD is one of our primary customers, we are all about the National Security missions and I serve on a Veterans Affairs Initiative, helping soldiers transition to civilian workforce.
Now, I am proud to say my youngest is a sworn Airborne Infantryman, shipping in July, after he graduates high school (two days after he turns 18) and his brother plans to join the Reserves after graduating college shortly thereafter.
All that being said, if you find yourself about to complain or feeling bad about the challenges of working from home:
a) I’ve worked from home for the last decade and have managed a remote team the last 3.5 years
b) MANY people, including the ones whose primary responsibility is to care for you and keep you alive (military, police, first responders, EMTS, fireman, nurses, doctors) do NOT have the option and are running towards the danger and risk!
c) Less people on the roads for a while
So even if you have no dedicated your life to service, you can fulfill your duty to others by not being selfish, and doing the right thing.
Adapt. Be thankful. Be thoughtful. Don’t be selfish.
The end.
I was 5 years old when Jon was born. Old enough to remember it happening, and young enough that I can’t really look back and remember anything with him not existing. As far back as my memories go, at the Cape, he is there. Cute, and sweet and funny and quiet.
At the end, when he was sick, and we knew it, I thought we had a lot more time. I selfishly cut our last call short, knowing we would have many more chances to talk. I also selfishly postponed getting a flu shot, that I needed in order to see him again, because I didn’t feel like it – AND I knew I’d see him soon for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I’d make sure me and the rest of us got the shot before then.
My youngest son asked me when we would see him next, and I said, soon.
Because people don’t die of AIDs anymore right? They live for years and years. They have to be careful, and take meds, etc, but they don’t die suddenly. Or suffer greatly. That is so 1986.
But I was wrong.
Jon had some bouts of sickness moments where he would have to be hospitalized and get new meds or have things evaluated, and on one hand, when it was happening, it seemed to drag on and on. Then suddenly, it was over, and it seemed like it had happened so quickly. I know that really doesn’t make sense when I read it out loud, but that is how it seemed and felt. Like every second was an hour and then it all just ended
We found out in April he was HIV positive. In Oct we knew it was Aids. Every day counting T-cells. Then in Nov, he was gone. I really only saw him a handful of times in that period. Some of those times were better than others. Honestly some of the things me and my kids saw were the worst human conditions I have ever seen, what you’d imagine biblical plagues to look like. He looked see-thru. I know what we saw was really nothing compared to what my parents dealt with.
Jon you were possibly the only person who could appreciate what I chose today to commemorate you, but anyone who knew you at all will understand. And really, if they saw you one hundred times at any point in your days here, you had on a Red Sox hat 99 of those 100 times.
Remember when Grampa Bud used to joke he was gonna tuck your ears into the hat 😉
I heard an unexpected blessing this week out of no where, A blessing for your beautiful son. You’re still there for him. It brought me to my knees I felt you in the moment. I wish I could just talk to you real quick, but, I know you know.
I’m so glad we went to Massachusetts after Christmas and spread your ashes. I love you and I still talk to you and I know you hear me. Thanks for playing Beatles, Guns N Roses and sometimes Eminem for me on the radio when I need it, usually in the morning when I’m driving deep in thought. I still cry every day.
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