We went to our second Gold Star Family event. We met some nice people and made some good connections, but for me personally, there was more heartache than I could handle. I sent this letter off yesterday…

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Dear General XXXX,

I am a fairly new Gold Star mother. We spoke at the “Iowa Remembers” event in the parking lot, right after the balloon release. I am sending this letter to you because I am not sure who can help. Please pass it along to the people who might be able to use this information to make improvements.

I moved to Iowa the week before my only son, Jacob was KIA in Afghanistan on May 28, 2014. Having many adjustments to make, most importantly building a new and much needed support network, I attended the “Iowa Remembers” retreat this weekend to make new friends who understand my new struggles and my loss.

On Saturday, we were given our walk/run t-shirts and I was disappointed that my son was not included on the shirt. It was explained to me that these names are the names of Iowa’s fallen and my son is a Colorado’s fallen and that he will be honored there. I was assured he had not been forgotten and that at the end of the course on Sunday there would be flags and signs honoring each of the participants’ fallen family members and that Jacob would be included there. Sadly, we walked the row of flags twice and he was not included. He was forgotten. At that point, I simply left the event in tears.

Today is also my first Gold Star Mother’s day and the 4 month anniversary of Jake’s death. I had hoped that this Gold Star weekend would help me cope with these “firsts”. Instead it did the opposite, leaving me more broken-hearted than when I arrived. People always say that my son will never be forgotten and I feel as if his memory was forgotten and somehow not as important as the others who gave their lives for the same things Jacob made the ultimate sacrifice for. It might seem like a small thing, but seeing and hearing my son’s name, and seeing his face at these events keeps him alive for me in some way. It allows us to still participate in our children’s lives although they don’t continue here on this Earth.

Please consider these questions: What do Iowa parents do to be included in the celebrations of their fallen when their deceased child is a constituent of another state? I am told he will be celebrated there, but my assigned SOS and CAO are here and only have information about Iowa events. Even if I could find an event in Colorado that is honoring my son, what if I can’t afford to get there? How do I get that t-shirt? How do I see that flag honoring him?

If I did attend a Colorado’s fallen event, how does that benefit me in creating relationships and a support network here in Iowa? It seems to me that I must make a choice; to either attend in the state where my son is being honored or attend where I live to create a support network but be broken-hearted at the same time.

Would it be so difficult to list Iowa’s fallen on the shirt and in another place on the shirt, add the fallen of Iowans registered for the event? Sort of a list of honorary Iowan’s who made the ultimate sacrifice? I can’t imagine there would be more than a few. Isn’t there a way to include all of our fallen for the event so that no other participant experiences the grief I experienced this weekend?

In regards to the missing sign for Jacob, I understand that human error occurs. None of us are perfect, but forgetting even one fallen offers nothing but heartache for the survivors, especially brand new survivors like me who are still just trying to get through each moment of each day. I never want another Gold Star family member to feel that their hero was forgotten.

Please know that I am not angry, just sad. I hope this type of thing can be prevented in the future.

Sincerely,

Heidi J Katzenbach

GSM of PFC Jacob H Wykstra

Now, the tender mercy that made my day a bit better: Our friend who is a colonel, called to ask permission for Jake to be honored in Dover, Delaware for a run to remember the fallen! I got to write a special note to you, Jake. That note will be written on a boot to line the side of the road and your picture will be on the boot! What a wonderful thing to be honored in Dover; the very place where you came back home to us.

Our fallen cannot ever be forgotten even for a minute. I love you, Jake and I honor you in my heart every single day.

Late last night your platoon returned from Afghanistan! I had not been looking forward to this day because I thought it might be hard for me to see them return without you, until it actually happened. Remember when you would go out for the evening and I couldn’t sleep until I knew you were home and safe? That is exactly how I felt last night as I waited to know they had all arrived safely. There were some posts on facebook about how hard this day is, dwelling on the fact that they returned one short and how unfair it is. But I found myself so grateful that you were the only casualty. I prayed many prayers for the safety of your brothers, and as I thought about you I knew you had been watching over them and I could feel your joy. So I joined you in celebrating answered prayers and the happiness of these wonderful men who love you so much. There is one thing you most certainly knew in this life; Love.

I often pray to dream about you and it had only happened once in four months but it finally happened again last night. I had a dream and like most dreams it was strange but wonderful at the same time. There were a couple of family members there and we were getting ready for a party for your niece and we were all excited for you to be home but at the same time, we were sad because we knew you were going to die and didn’t know if we should tell you or just let it happen. I went to all of your favorite restaurants and brought home everything you loved to eat and you were so happy! You were laying on the floor on your stomach and I was rubbing your back and we were talking about normal things. You were trying to decide if you should go to the broncos game (as if that would be a tough decision for you) and I told you that I wanted you to do whatever would make you happy. I gave you a big hug from behind and you said, “Thanks Mom, I’ve missed that so much” and then I woke up. You were alive even if it was just a dream and I got to talk with you and touch you and you were alive! It was the first “good” day I’ve had in so long.

Lately, I’ve noticed that talking about you sometimes makes people uncomfortable. Maybe because they don’t know what to say, but I have become more aware of it recently, especially at church. Maybe some feel like I should be over it. Don’t they know that talking about you helps me heal? I don’t know if I should meet my needs or if I should try harder to make those around me more comfortable. It’s so hard to know what to do.

Is it weird that I keep wondering who will die next? I keep wondering who will leave and have the ability to be with you first. I wonder who I will grieve next. Death has become such a common daily thing that these strange thoughts come to me. I think my understanding of eternity might play a role in this too, as I know that I will see you again.

I’m still sad and grieving, but I’m doing okay. I’m still avoiding the contention in Colorado, but I will go for a visit after your platoon returns to meet some of your brothers. I miss you, Jake. I don’t think it will ever go away but I will keep relying on comfort from our Father in Heaven and from the many joyous and wonderful memories of you. I love you with all my heart.

Last weekend Ray and I took a road trip to Chicago to visit Jake’s Lieutenant. He is still hospitalized after 3.5 months. He has suffered brain damage from 2 strokes as a result of his injuries and is learning to talk, read and write all over again. We had a great visit, went to dinner with his family and managed to have conversation amidst his frustration with finding the right words. What a brave man!

I managed to keep my composure during our time together, but I knew the tears would come later and they did. The whole week stirred anger in me over war and the tragedies that come from hatred in the world. I became so angry,  and then I remembered the love, the bonds and the silver lining that comes with every tragedy. Everything has its opposite, and the opposite of hatred and war is love and kindness. I have no control over the hatred, but I try to follow the savior and serve those around me.

This morning, I finally felt well enough to take a walk with Max. It was cool, the sun was shining, the leaves were barely starting to change and blow around, and I could feel fall around me. For me, this is so significant! As I was admiring the start of my favorite season, I realized that all of summer came and went without notice from me.  My grief had consumed my capacity to feel and squelched normal things that have always brought me joy, like being outside with nature all around me. I didn’t notice that summer came and I didn’t notice that it went, but today I noticed fall.

Baseball season is almost over and I didn’t care to watch a single game. Now, the World Series are almost upon us and Jake isn’t here. It was a tradition of ours until he was about 16 and life got busier for him and I married Ray… We knew all of the teams and players and had so much fun making bets and predictions. A couple of weeks ago, I opened my night stand drawer and found two baseball cards that have been there since 2006. I remember the day so clearly. I was in bed after my wrist replacement surgery and Jake came in with these two cards; my two favorite players of the year. It seems like a small and simple gesture, but Jake was 14 and collected cards, and these two were treasures. That’s why he wanted me to have them. Jake always worried about my illnesses to the point that he seemed to have outward denial that I was sick at all. I think it helped him to always think of me as strong and healthy, but when I was really down, he was there to check on me and bring me treasures to cheer me up. I thought about putting the cards in his collection box sitting on my shelf, but instead, I returned them to the drawer where they have been for eight years and will likely stay for the rest of my days here on Earth. A reminder of special times that we shared.

Jake, Our favorite season is here and you are not. Please stay close to me and help me remember our times together. Although I will continue healing, I know I will never be the same without you. You are a part of me and I am a part of you in flesh, heart and spirit. I cannot articulate how much I miss you.

A tribute to you from the Colorado Rockies. I didn’t get to be there, but I know you were there and I know you must have loved it!

http://m.mlb.com/video/v35647343/miacol-rockies-honor-private-first-class-wykstra

As my day continues, I am becoming angry. I have always felt grief on the anniversary of the terrible terrorist attack that brought down the Twin Towers, but this time it’s different for me and I wasn’t prepared for it. It’s different because now, you weigh into the equation and it’s suddenly so personal. This horrible war that took your life was a consequence of this attack; of this day! Jake, you had just turned nine years old when this happened. Nine! You were riding your bike, and playing GI Joes and baseball without a care in the world. You were so young and innocent and unaware of just how wicked the world can be. I haven’t felt much anger since your death because I trust in the Lord, but this day is a hard one to accept.

There is now talk about sending troops to Syria and more to Iraq after repeated bombings. I guess were not finished in Iraq after all. Each time we claim defeat and pull out of the Middle East, a new terrorist organization evolves, ISIS, Hamas, still the Taliban and others. The world is a mess right now. I am so angry at the thought of even one more mother experiencing the loss I am experiencing. I often pray for peace, but then I remember that the Lord knows this will not happen. These are prophecies being fulfilled and we will all feel terror and loss. Are we to pray for something that seems impossible? I wish I knew.

Today, I woke up later than usual and when I saw the time my mind went into a brief panic, “I need to turn my phone on. What if Jake called?”, and then I remembered. You aren’t going to call. I won’t get to hear your voice again. When will my brain remember that you’re gone from my world for the rest of my life? It’s such a hard concept to process and even harder to bear. Jake, I miss you. I can close my eyes and see you. After all of these years I have you memorized. I know your smile, your chuckle, exactly what your hands and feet look like, your hair, the location of your moles, the scars from having some removed, your smell, the way you move and your voice. I miss your voice the most. I can feel what your neck, head and back feel like because I rubbed them so many times, especially at church. I remember your hugs as a child and as a man, but everything is gone now, Jake. Everything I love about you has vanished and I am here trying to cope. Sometimes it’s simply unbearable and so hard to accept.

Yesterday, I realized that everyone close to you has moved. You’ve only been dead for three and half months and we all live in new places except your dad. And then I did it again, “How will Jake find us if he happens to show up?” But you aren’t coming back and sometimes my mind forgets for just a split second. I hate it because when I remember, my heart seems to break all over again.

Tomorrow Ray and I will drive to Chicago to see your Lieutenant. He’s still hospitalized, and will be the last one to be discharged from the crash. He had two strokes that have affected the language center of his brain and he’s learning to speak, read and write again. I hear he’s doing better and look forward to visiting. I can’t imagine how hard and how frustrating this must be for him. The good thing is that his family lives in Chicago and can visit and help. I pray that I can be of help to him somehow. I pray that he doesn’t feel responsible in any way for your death. I know you would never want anyone to feel responsible.

People often offer their condolences and thank me for your sacrifice, but it was your sacrifice, Jake. It was you that set out to try to make this world a better place, and I know that if you could be thanked now, you would say, “I was happy to do it”, because of who you are. That makes you my hero.

It’s the middle of the night and although I have medicated myself, I can’t sleep because I just keep thinking of you and wondering what you are doing. I miss laughing with you and I simply miss being in the same room as you. I pray every night to dream of you, but it doesn’t seem to happen much. Maybe when I can sleep without medication. I can’t wait!

I finally received and read your autopsy report. I didn’t request pictures, but I needed to know what actually killed you and how quickly you died. I have been having these images in my head of you trapped, aware and unable to move, but now I know that God took you quickly and I’m so grateful for His mercy. Everyone’s guess was that you died from a broken neck, but your head, neck, jaw, collar bone… Were perfect. Your brain was unharmed. That’s why they let me see you, dressed so nicely in your uniform and looking so handsome. This is why I was blessed with that last bit of time with you that I will always treasure. Other than a cut on your left hand, your torso received all of the damage. Your lower back and pelvis were broken, as well as most of your ribs. In God’s mercy, He allowed a rib to sever your aorta. You died within seconds; unaware of what was happening. I am so grateful for this knowledge and so grateful for a kind an merciful God who loves and cares so greatly for you even in death. I know the love He has for me in taking you so quickly and allowing me a sense of peace concerning the incident that swiftly brought you into His presence.

Although I was able to briefly put my emotions away in order to decipher the six page report, it drained me. I must have experienced some stress in my sleep because I have had increased pain over the last few days. Your death would be so much easier to cope with if I wasn’t so chronically ill to begin with. I got tests back today pertaining to my adrenal glands and some other things and they are not good. It isn’t surprising with the stress of losing you and being the primary target for others who are angry. I hope for your sake, kindness will eventually prevail among those whom you love.

This morning I cried for you as I usually do, but today the pain was like it was when I first received the news you had been killed. Grief is a funny thing. The pain in my heart was so intense and my sense of loss overwhelming. Me and you were always happy to be together, weren’t we? We’re so much alike and I am trying my best to find happiness without my favorite part of me; you. I know you keep watch over me. I sense you and sometimes I feel as if I can almost see or hear you. Please stay with me until I can see you again in the next life. I will always long to be with you and I will always love you more each day in this life and the next!

If you were here: I would let you leave your dirty socks all over the place, I’d let you leave all the lights on in the whole house. You could stay in the shower as long as you wanted and use a new towel every day. I’d let you look over my shoulder in the kitchen and give endless suggestions about my cooking. I would let you leave your clothes all over the floor and when you needed to do laundry, I wouldn’t get upset when you threw my clean clothes from the dryer onto the floor. You could park behind my car or even have my spot in the driveway. Heck, you could have my car. I would make you chicken and rice and chocolate chip cookies every day. I would go to the mall with you and endure your endless shopping trips, I might even admit that your dog is smarter than mine just to give you that satisfaction. I would hug you more and force you to hug me back, I would drop everything I was doing whenever you needed me, I would tell you how much happiness you bring me and how proud I am of you. I would tell you how much I love you, but that you already know.

My sweet Jake, It was one year ago today that we were at Fort Stewart in Georgia for your basic training graduation. You were so happy, so full of life and so ready to start this next chapter. I could clearly see the bond you had with your brothers whom you suffered and succeeded with. I could see the love you had for them. You had your whole life ahead of you and you were making plans for it. I’ve never seen you so excited about life than at this time.

I survived over 4 months of missing you and worrying about you with such little contact. This was the longest I had ever gone without you in my life and it was so difficult, but I knew you were coming home and I counted the days. When you deployed, It started all over again and now it’s been 8 months (twice as long) without you, but this time you aren’t coming back. I can’t wait for you and count the days. I suppose it’s now your turn to wait for me and count the days. I would count with you if I knew, but these things are left to the Lord and my job is to have faith in Him and His will.

Oh Jake, life without you is so hard. I promise I’m trying my best to be happy. I can finally laugh without guilt and smile at pictures of you and memories of the fun . I’m getting there, but know that my grief is equivalent to the love I have for you, so I don’t think it is possible to ever be “over this”, but it is possible to commune with the Lord and talk to you, hoping you hear me. If you have any power to do so, please hear me every time I pass a picture of you in the house or see a butterfly, because I tell you, “I love you”.

There have been countless times when I have been proud of you and happy with the choices you have made during your short life. You have been my joy and those proud mother moments will never end, because I know you better than anyone. I know how hard you have tried and will always try to be the person the Lord sent you here to be, and the person He is helping you to be in the hereafter. Happy graduation day, Jake! I am so grateful that I get to be your mom forever and ever!

We’ve had good friends visiting this week from Denver and I am actually laughing. I’ve had times since Jake’s death when I have experienced guilt and shame because I find myself smiling or laughing about something. I’ve felt as if I am dishonoring Jake somehow. I force myself to consciously remember that his love for life is the same as mine has been, and I would not want him to suppress that trait if he was the survivor. I can enjoy the day, but like I’ve said before, grief demands to be felt, so I laugh with my friends in the day and cry when I go to bed at night. That’s okay for now.

I found a Gold Star family facebook page where I can find and offer support and understanding to other survivors. Someone recently posted this, “Our son XXXX was KIA in the Afghanistan at the age of 21 almost three years ago, September 28th 2011. Since the fourth of July I have found out I have pancreatic and liver cancer. I went in to the University of XXXX last week and they cut me up but did not finish the operation as they found cancer in liver. I am not giving up hope but at the same time I Know I may have a lot shorter life than I thought. I have been doing a lot of thinking on how I can and should have lived my life better. When I look back on the last three years I wish I had not been as sad and enjoyed life more.” I don’t want to make this mistake.

A couple of nights ago, we were out at our new (almost ours) property, and I was thinking about how happy I am when I’m there. I guess it’s because I feel Jake’s presence. This land is a gift from him and it gives me joy knowing that it is meant for me to be happy while I am still here without him. I sometimes hear his voice telling me to be happy, to not feel guilty and that he is happy. So like my friend said in his facebook post, I will try my best to live my life better for Jake, and to find happiness, letting go of the guilt and shame that would make Jake so sad. Simple lessons take so long to learn when grieving.