It’s been one month since your death and I still know nothing about what happened to you. I guess the investigation will take a long while, but I don’t even know your cause of death. I will try to be patient.

I smile every single day as I remember you, but I still haven’t had a tearless day. I cry every day and sometimes the pain of missing you is so intense I am incapacitated.

I learned something about support. First, it’s hard to find support from those who are also mourning you because they are so consumed with their own grief that they have nothing to give. Why did it take me so many weeks to figure this out? I was seeking an ideal that is far from reality. I thought we should and could all grieve together, supporting one another. Instead some grieve together and some are shut out. I have been shut out because of your decision to ask me to make your arrangements. Although only one decision was made without the request and/or consideration of others, it doesn’t seem to matter to those who are grieving and angry. I am simply the target and as painful as this is, I suppose I can be that for them. I understand their grief and I can see why they might be angry if they don’t have an understanding of the afterlife. I can imagine asking, “Why?”, and I can imagine the anger and frustration that comes with not receiving an answer to that question, especially when someone is taken in the prime of life as you were.

I’m reading a book right now about a couple who lost their son at seventeen in a car accident. I’m about halfway through the book and although I appreciate her pain and loss, the picture she paints is that of perfection. Her son was perfect, her family seems perfect, their best friends are their pastor and his wife, their house is always full of giving, caring friends… Is that the norm or is this experience I’m having the norm? Where are her angry, hateful people? I might have to stop reading it because I am beginning to resent her. Likely a norm does not exist and likely this is why people don’t seem to know what to say to me.

I have been able to rely on some friends for support but most are geographically far, and like I said, most don’t know what to say to someone who has lost a child. I wouldn’t begin to understand who to reach out to because I have no idea who is or isn’t comfortable with a hurting and crying griever. I do have my sister, Laura I can call with both good and bad news, complain, cry and truly be myself. I think everyone needs at least one true friend and I have that in her. She just gets me and I get her. It’s funny, because we didn’t figure this out until later in life, but her compassion and love bring me such peace.

I do wish I had another gold star mom to share experiences with. I wish I knew what others in this same situation have experienced. I just feel so alone in my situation.

What would I do without my sweet husband? His quiet support and tolerance during my extreme behaviors proves a love like one I’ve never known. He can put his male need to fix things aside and just be with me regardless of my struggle. I haven’t decided if it would be more helpful for him to be Jake’s biological dad and go through this loss with me as someone who “gets it” or if it’s better that he’s a less involved observer. Either way, I am grateful and often feel unworthy of such a decent and loving man.

I have been terrified of forgetting your voice. We have pictures so I will never forget you visually, but I have nothing to remember your adult voice. The possibility of forgetting has tormented me for days so I keep forcing myself to imagine the common things you would say to me. All your life, you started conversations with, “Hey Mom…” I can hear this clearly but have struggled to remember how your normal conversation sounds. I have no adult recordings of you and you never left voicemails. I agonized over this. I prayed for a way to remember and suddenly I recalled the day you arrived in Afghanistan. I woke up and turned on my phone, missing your call by 3 minutes but getting a voicemail. Of course I couldn’t call you back because you were using a USO phone. I was livid after waiting for three days to hear your voice and know you were okay, but that message had been long deleted. I did the math realizing that the message would have been left on January 29^th from an unrecognizable number. I checked my deleted messages from that day and after listening to three, I heard your voice! I cried so hard. After listening to it several times, I realized that that message was meant for now and not then. If I change the word “Afghanistan” to “Heaven” it’s exactly what you would tell me. You message says something like, ‘Hey mom it’s me. I made it to Afghanistan (Heaven). You won’t be able to get a hold of me but I’ll try to contact you when I can. The time is so different here, but I’m okay and everything is good. I’ll see if I can call later. I love you, mom.’ I was able to resave it and hear it whenever I need a vocal reminder. What a miracle! You are okay and everything is good, and yes Jake, I do know you love me. You have never given me reason to doubt it. I know that we share an unconditional love that not everyone is blessed to experience. If you had anything to do with it, thank you for choosing me to be your mom. If I had a choice, there isn’t another son I would choose to be mine. Nobody could bless my life as you have, my precious, precious boy.

The funeral was beautiful. It was estimated that more than 900 people were there. Jake, you touched so many lives in your short time here. I don’t know a soul who didn’t appreciate you and so many who loved you so deeply. Many tears were shed and many laughs were heard. We wore bright colors to honor the artist in you and all active and retired military wore their uniforms. The lieutenant Governor met with us and gave us a folded Colorado flag from the state you loved so much and vowed to never leave. We sang, “My Country Tis of Thee”, A friend sang, “To Where You Are” and we finished with “God be with you til we meet again”. Your sister spoke and did so well. Your cousins gave tribute to you, as well as a general from the Army. He was so kind. Sadly, I could tell he had done this before. Your best friend talked about you and said this would be the most important speech of his life. You had so many friends but none like him. Your favorite Bishop spoke of your spiritual side and the love he had for you. Jake, I hope you know how much are loved. I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t think you ever knew an enemy until you went to the other side of the world.

As we drove away from the church building, the patriot guard protected you on their motorcycles. It was so moving the way you were honored. I know you would humbly decline the title, but everyone knows you are a hero.

Because the cemetery is so far from the church building, it took 3 police departments and fire departments to help with the procession. At every intersection, fire and police officers saluted you as you passed. Civilians, stopped by the procession, got out of their cars and placed their hands over their hearts as you passed. There were strangers on the roadside waving American flags. Two fire engines extended their ladders from both sides of the road and hung a huge American flag over the center of the road for you to pass under. Jake, you were so loved and so honored. I know it would have seemed like too much in your eyes but it was so well-deserved. You fought with love in your heart for your country and those of us you loved, but also with compassion for those you were trying to liberate; those you didn’t even know but came to have sympathy for while in Afghanistan. Jake, you served for the right reasons and I know you died well in the eyes of God. You are a true hero and I know you are being blessed for the sacrifice you made.

At the cemetery, you were buried with full military honors. The roll call was difficult for me. When it was your turn, they said, “PFC Wykstra” and there was silence, they said, “PFC Jacob Wykstra” and again, no answer, and then a third time, “PFC Jacob Henry Wykstra” and upon no response the 21 gun salute responded. I wanted a response from you. I would have done anything to hear your voice.

Your grave was beautifully dedicated by your step-dad and you were speedily and efficiently buried. We were able to drop roses in for you and your cousin, Dustin removed his blue infantry cord from his uniform and dropped it in with you, followed by Richard Chae and Josh. It was moving. I chose the angel Moroni for your religious symbol on your tombstone, and it reads, “Well done my good and faithful servant”. I know you heard these words from the Savior. I know you have spent time in his arms and have been taught by Him. I believe you now know so much more than me, and as you know this drives me crazy because I can’t wait to know everything!

The death date on your tombstone is lightly stamped with May 28, because the accident happened at 11:45 PM on that day. You likely died before midnight, but nobody in the field was authorized to call your time of death, it will likely be changed to the 29^th. The investigation continues and we will only know then. Until then, your medals and paperwork have either date. I use the 29^th because that was when your time of death was called and will likely be determined to be the official date.

You have been laid to rest. I immediately returned to Iowa and feel sad that I cannot visit your grave. I want to go and sit with you. I feel so far from you physically, but I feel your spirit near me constantly. Will I ever stop expecting you to come in the door? Will I ever go to bed without thinking, “Should we lock the door or is Jake coming in tonight”? I loved it when you would open my bedroom door to tell me you were home and call Molly to come sleep with you.  There were those nights when I was still awake and you would come in and tell me about your night. I miss my one-on-one time with you, talking about your future and telling me about the things you wanted to accomplish in this life. I guess you finished all you needed to accomplish. You must be needed elsewhere for something extremely important because I know how much we need you here. You will always be the sunshine in my life, even in memory. That’s how much you shine on. I love you with my whole heart, my son. That is why it hurts so deeply

A few family and close friends visited you. I came later. Your sister, Hannah had decided, like the rest of the family that she didn’t want to remember you this way. Most everyone wanted to remember you full of life like you were from birth. Hannah changed her mind last minute. I was happy I was there when she came, because it was so hard for her, Jake. She needed to have closure. She needed to know that you really died because it has been so unbelievable for all of us; especially her. How can you be gone? You were coming home soon. How can this be, Jake? How can life continue without you?

I let everyone have time with you first and finally it was my turn to see you for the last time in this life. We talked for 45 minutes, and it wasn’t long enough. I am so grateful that I was able to hold your hand, kiss your forehead and tell you how much I love you. I even laughed with you as I talked about some of the silly things we enjoyed together over the years. Twice, I saw the corners of your mouth turn up just a bit as you lay lifeless. Maybe I imagined it or maybe it was a miracle, but either way, I saw one last glimpse of life in you, and if I close my eyes, I can see it now.

Finally, I knelt by your casket, and said one last prayer with you. I’m sure you remember how you complained when it was my turn for family prayer because you thought my prayers were too long? I warned you this last time you would have to take it because you couldn’t complain. I held your hand and prayed with you one last time, and then my time was over. One of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do was to walk away from you, knowing that my eyes would never see you again in this life. Jake, I miss you and love you with every fiber in my heart and soul. You have been my joy since the day I learned you were coming into my life. I know I will see you again and what a reunion it will be. Until then, I promise I will try to find meaning here without you and I will keep you with me each and every day.

I have spent days praying that the coroner would deem Jake viewable. Since we have no details of the crash, we didn’t know the condition of his body. I just knew I needed to see him and touch him one last time so I prayed all day every single day. I needed to spend just a little more time with Jake. After 2 days in Colorado, we received word that we could see him again! His wife made a firm decision to have Jake’s casket closed for all but family so I agreed. Looking back, I really wish I would have discussed this decision. Jake looked so handsome in his uniform, peacefully lying in the casket. I’ve seen the dead before but this was so different.  This was my child, my boy, my baby. I never thought I’d be looking at the lifeless body of my boy who had more life than anyone I know.

After you arrived in Colorado, Jake we followed your car from the airstrip to the funeral home. We were put in a room because they “needed to inspect you”. After a short time, they brought me in for inspection. I was not allowed to bring anyone with me because you had designated me to be the PAD (I think it means the person authorized to make decisions). “Inspection”? What a strange word at a time like this.

I knew your hair would look wrong. I had given you every haircut your entire life until you joined the military, and you always said they could never get it right. I couldn’t cut it, but I could bring some hairspray to style it the best I could. I know it sounds silly but being able to do this one last thing for you was so important to me. I knew you wouldn’t look like you but fixing your hair might help. They opened the door and I had to consciously try not to run to you. I had already missed you so much while you were in training and then deployed. I already bought my plane tickets for your homecoming and couldn’t wait to finally see you again. We had so many plans. But, there you lay, so lifeless, yet so beautiful in your dress blues with your new medals. Oh Jake, I am so proud of you; so proud of the decisions you made even though it got us to this point.

Every birthday since the day you were born I kissed you between the eyebrows, and for most of those birthdays you resisted. This is where you received your first kiss at birth and this is where you received your last. I fixed your hair, identified you as my son, signed the paper and left you until tomorrow.

I’ve told you, “I love you” countless times and today, I just couldn’t stop repeating those words in your presence. I find peace in knowing one thing for certain; when you were alive, you never wondered about my love for you, and you died knowing that my love was completely unconditional. I lost you with no regrets. What a wonderful blessing to know that I did this one thing really well. No mother loved her boy more than I loved you and you knew it, didn’t you?