We met with our CAO today and got your final casualty report. Your date of death is officially May 29^th which means I need to figure out how to get the date changed on your tombstone. It also reported that it was a “non-hostile accident”. The full investigation is yet to come, but I feel a bit angry that you were lost halfway around the world in an “accident”. It makes it seem so insignificant, yet it is the most significant thing in my life. Who is responsible for the accident? Will I ever know the details or will it just be that my son is dead because of an accident? The guys who were with you say they are fighting this because they remember being fired upon with gun-fire and mortar. I’m not sure “final” can be changed.

Every day I think of you trapped under that helicopter for hours, face down in the dirt and unable to move. I pray that you died instantly. I can’t bear the thought of you being trapped and aware of what was happening. My heart can’t take that, so I have to trust that it was quick as the guys in the field report. As a mom, it might always be in the back of my mind haunting me no matter what I learn. I would have done anything to protect you, but I couldn’t. I would trade places with you, but I can’t. Just know my boy that you will always be the missing light in my world. It’s just a little darker without you.

Oh Jake, if I had known I would get to keep you for only 22 years, I would have squeezed you more, taught you more, forced you to hug me more, talked with you more, spent more time with you… I would have done everything more except love you more because that is just not possible. You did always know how much I love you, didn’t you? I don’t think you ever doubted it for even one day. At least I accomplished that. I did good.

I am back in Iowa and I’m finally happy about it. I feel as though I can be here without feeling guilty about being away from your grave and all of the memorials and memories. Thank you for that. I was so happy to be back in my own bed that I slept 12 hours and I dreamed about you. I can’t remember exactly what it was about, but I do remember pitching a baseball to you and you bunting instead of hitting. You had such a goofy look on your face because you were psyching me out. All I know is that upon waking, I was happy to have had time with you even if it was just a dream.

Today I had my first day without any crying. I still walked around with a rock in my gut and nothing feels right yet, but I didn’t cry. I knew this day would come, but I’m not sure if it feels good or if I feel guilty about not shedding a tear for you.

I turned 51 today. I don’t feel special because it’s my birthday. I feel nothing. I feel nothing about most things in life. Things that used to matter don’t matter anymore. I am finally feeling a little bit of that anger people talk about. I guess it’s a stage of grief, but none of this seems to come in neat sequential stages. Grief just comes when it wants to and demands to come. I haven’t been angry at the usual things. I’m not angry at you, or God or the helicopter pilots… I am simply angry because my child has been reduced to a series of memories. That’s all I have of you. A couple of items, photos and memories; all wonderful things, but memories pale in comparison to the real you. You brightened every room you entered. You were larger than life, fun-loving and driven to make everyone around you laugh. You were the only one I connected with in our goofy way. We found the same things funny, the same things drove us crazy and we had a way of just looking at each other and knowing what the other was thinking. I have that with nobody but you. Who will I be silly with? Who will get me? Your disappearance has left such a hole in my heart and in my life. It’s a space that cannot be filled because it’s your space, and a constant reminder of your absence. How can you be just a memory? It makes no sense because you are so much more than that. It’s not fair! I want to punch something, scream or run until I can’t run any more. You are more than a memory, Jake. You will always live as long as I live. You are the missing part of me. You will never be just a memory!

I had breakfast with your best friend’s mom. She misses you so much and they both seem to be struggling, especially him. It was great spending time with her and I couldn’t help but think how I wished we could have had more mother-son double dates. I know how much they mean to you and have your entire life. Everyone misses you.

I had lunch with your sister. I love her so much but she becomes more and more distant all the time and it seems everything I do turns around and bites me. I am not very good at communicating with her. I will keep trying and praying for help. She’s all I have besides Ray. I feel so lonely.

The rest of the day has been pretty rough. For the first time I asked, “Why”? I don’t want to pose this question because I know there is no answer, but I need you and I can’t have you. This life seems so empty without you, and my life feels pointless. I know I can find purpose and do some good if I could only feel better physically and emotionally. Oh Jake, I miss everything about you. I miss your smell, your laugh, your smile, your voice; your presence. I am incomplete and I don’t know how to feel whole again without you. You died. You actually died and it’s unbelievable. I love you so much and I am so sorry this happened to you, and to everyone who loves you. This is my life’s greatest trial. Sometimes I feel as though I am dying too, and at other times I’m simply surviving. Shouldn’t there be more than survival? I hate being trapped in this life.

As I lay in bed crying, I have a sense of you next to me. Like when you used to come in and lay down and chat about anything. You would lay on your stomach with your toes pointed in, your elbows bent with your chin resting on your hands. You would talk to me and your chin wouldn’t allow your mouth to open all the way so that your voice was a bit muffled. Tonight I hear you telling me, “It’s okay mom, don’t be sad”. I’m trying, Buddy. I will keep trying.

A short time ago, a friend of yours posted that he had been sitting outside thinking about you and a monarch butterfly landed on his shoulder. He said he felt like it was you telling him that everything was okay. I told him that it was interesting because the last painting you completed was that of a butterfly. The first time I visited your grave, A little butterfly landed on my hand and flew to perch itself right on top of your tombstone. I looked around during that hour or two I spent with you, but there were no others in the cemetery anywhere. As I left, there it stayed as if it desired to be as close to you as I do.

Today, I met some old friends and neighbors at your grave. I went after church and spent two and a half hours with them talking about you, and how much they enjoyed living across the street watching you grow up. We laughed and we cried, and all the while the same type of butterfly landed on us and back to your tombstone, over and over again. It never left us for the duration of our visit, and as we walked away, we searched for others like it throughout the cemetery. Again, I couldn’t find another. Was your friend right? Is this one of the ways you help us remember you? Jake, don’t you know I already remember you all day every day? I have thought of you and your welfare for 22 years and it’s not something I can stop doing. You and your sister have become my life’s purpose. Who am I now? I’m not sure.

Today someone asked me how many children I have, followed up by, “Where do they live?” I said my daughter lives in Denver and then I just stopped. Where do you live my precious boy? I do know from your absence and from the constant pain in my heart that you do not live here.  I know what I’ve been taught and what I believe, but what do I report to others? My son lives in Heaven? I’m not sure I can report that so “matter of fact” but I do know that’s where you are.

I think I had my first “good day”. I put it in parentheses because everything in life is relative, especially now. I still cried, I still had a rock in my stomach, my heart still hurt but for some reason, I just coped better.

I drove down to Colorado Springs to meet the three that returned home to Colorado after the crash. Several are still wounded and in the hospital in El Paso, Texas. It was so fun talking about you and your time there. I could see the bond that had been created, but I could see even more how much they love you. We talked for a couple of hours over lunch. They even heard you in my laugh. What a wonderful experience.

I got home just in time to get your niece, and take her to the church pool party. She was in the water for two and a half hours and didn’t get out except to jump back in. How fun to be back with the church people you grew up with; the church where we grew together in the gospel. You loved learning and loved spending time with our missionaries so much. Those were good times for us. I know you struggled with some things in your teen years as most kids do, but you had a solid testimony of Jesus Christ from a young age, and you’ve always been such a beautiful and kind person.

This world will never be the same without you. I was thinking about how much I need you and that God must need you more, so that means you have been taken for a magnificent and wonderful purpose. You are a special soul and I got to be your mom. What a blessing you are to me, Jacob.