Today’s FB post: My sweet son, Six months ago today was the last time we got to tell you we love you. You left on a late night mission to help others and your life here on Earth ended. What I have learned in the last 6 months is how well-loved you are, and that you only influenced others for good. Your real mission in this life was to bring happiness and laughter to everyone you knew. Know how loved and missed you are, and how very proud we are of the selfless man you grew to be. I dream of the day when I will see you again, and even though you probably don’t need it, I will always pray for you! Forever your mom.

So I went to bed an hour ago and had to get up. I tried reading for distraction, but I can’t sleep because I keep thinking about this night 6 months ago. That night, I went to sleep completely unaware of what I would wake to. I don’t want to think about it because I’d rather be sleeping, but it keeps coming to my mind. Six months feels like forever, yet at times I can hardly believe it’s been this long. Time is strange that way.

Good news: I survived Thanksgiving just fine. I did shed some tears in the morning as I prepared the turkey, but the rest of the day was good. I learned from your birthday to make a plan ahead of time and to serve others. I had initially planned to cook for and serve the homeless veterans in Des Moines, but that project fell apart. A couple of Sundays ago, I noticed that the missionaries had no place to eat for Thanksgiving so I signed up immediately, knowing if I serve them I will feel better, and it worked. I had 5 young missionaries here for dinner, games and a movie. They didn’t completely fill the void, but it was a little less-empty. I’m happy that nobody can fill the void, because that space in my heart was made just for you. Feel free to reside there whenever and however you can and I will always feel you.

It’s Tuesday. I got the grocery shopping done and I’ll be ready to bake tomorrow. I invited people over because I thought it would be a distraction, but I think I made a big mistake. The shopping was more difficult than I had expected, and for the rest of the day I was exhausted with grief. I really do want to have a good holiday and enjoy my time, but I just keep thinking, “I don’t want Thanksgiving without Jake”.

A good friend called when I was grief-stricken. I answered because I thought, surely she’ll understand because she loves me. She has five grown kids, she’s compassionate and kind… Well, she tried, but said nothing I needed to hear. She basically told me that I should just enjoy the holiday and focus on the people around me. It’s clear that all of her children are living because she simply didn’t get it. I think that once the dead are buried and we’ve had a month or two to mourn, society expects us to “get on with it”. But, when someone loses a child; an actual part of that person, there is no “getting on with it”. For the rest of this life, I will feel alone in my grief because I am. I ask for comfort from my Father in Heaven and He sends small blessings to let me know He’s there, but the only thing that could make this all better is Jake, and that will never happen.

Jake, this is for you:

Jake, I don’t know what to do! Your Brigade is reorganizing and has invited the families of it’s fallen to be a part of it, along with ceremonies, tours of the base… I just got back from Colorado and I already have a trip planned to go visit Aunt Laura that same week and I can’t change the tickets. I just can’t get over the feeling that I’m letting you down. After 22 years of doing anything I could for you, I suddenly can’t do anything and it breaks my heart. How do I know if this is important to you? How do I decide if I should change my plans and attend? Why can’t I just call you and ask how important this is to you? Jake! I miss talking to you. I miss be able to pick up the phone and ask a simple question.

I’ve talked to two other Gold Star Moms and they both said that they’ve learned that we just can’t attend everything. There is so much to honor you and that makes me happy, but are you aware of this? Does it matter to you or have you moved on to bigger and better things? I feel guilt because I’ve already missed so much because I don’t live in Colorado anymore. It seems so much guilt comes with motherhood and I should probably just stop it!

Reminders of you are still everywhere. In fact, I might be more aware of them than I was in the past. When I was in the Denver airport, waiting to board, I watched a young dad sitting on the floor with his toddler son looking out the window at the airplanes. The little boy was so excited that the dad couldn’t get him to eat his dinner. I watched them and dreamed of what a great dad you would have been. I could see the sweetness in their relationship and felt the pain, knowing I’ll never get to see you experience that.

There’s a deli that Ray and I like to go to and every time we’re there we seem to be sitting near a mother and a son having dinner together. Not the same mother and son, but there is always a mom enjoying a meal with her boy. This brings back so many sweet memories with you. From when you were little and we would drop Hannah off at kindergarten and go out to breakfast, to eating dinner at the mall while holiday shopping. I am so grateful for these memories and so happy that we had such a good relationship. We shared so much and I need to remember everything I can. It’s just hard to accept that we will never again make any new memories in this life.

Yesterday, I was in the grocery store and holiday music was playing. It’s not even Thanksgiving and the Christmas music is upon us. I saw those chocolate oranges that are your favorite. Remember when I would buy them up after Christmas when they were on sale and randomly give them to you during the spring? It always surprised you so much. I love nothing more than to see the joy on your face from such simple things. Jake, you loved life so much and I miss that kind of excitement enthusiasm that so few of us have. You’re the only one I’ve ever been able to thrill so easily, and you’re the only one in my life who could make me laugh even when things were difficult. I wish you were here now to comfort me with your humor, enthusiasm and silliness. I lost that part of me when I lost you, but I will keep trying to get some of it back.

I haven’t written in awhile for a couple of reasons. First, I can finally go a few days without the need to write, or cry or even experience that deep sadness I am so familiar with. I am finally able to focus on the life in front of me. It lasts a couple of days and then the grief returns, but there is a definite improvement.

I was able to spend a week in Colorado, and finally met the portion of Jake’s platoon that was with him during his life in Afghanistan, and with him when he died; the men that he called his brothers. These are the men who removed him from the desert floor and brought him to the Apache FOB where he was declared dead before escorting him to Kandahar for his long journey home. I have so much love and gratitude for each and every one of them, and I pray that I have been able to articulate this to them. We had a night out where we remembered Jake, shared stories, pictures and videos and laughed. It was perfect. The only thing missing was Jake.

While in Colorado, I had a lunch date with Jake’s recruiters, Sgt. Babb and Sgt. Stickler. I had first met Sgt. Stickler exactly two years ago on election day. I was an election judge at a local polling place and he had been placed in a long line he didn’t need to be in. Because he was in uniform, I pulled him from the queue to expedite things. I told him my son had been interested in joining the Army and he gave me his card. He just happened to be a recruiter, and he was the one to teach and prepare my son for basic training. We met last Tuesday, which just happened to be election day again! I am so grateful for the time I had to spend with him in particular because he was carrying a burden. I had embraced him at Jake’s funeral and told him how happy I was to see him. At lunch, he shared that he considered not attending the service because he didn’t know what to say to me, and he felt so much guilt. I feel greatly blessed to have had the opportunity to tell him that I hold nobody accountable for Jake’s death, not even the pilots. I know in my heart that it was Jake’s time to go, and the Lord took him regardless of anything any of us could have done. I cannot bear to think that any of these wonderful and giving men would hold themselves responsible for Jake’s death in any way. War is ugly and anything can happen. I am just grateful that I raised a son willing to serve and I’m grateful that Jake had the opportunity to create bonds with others just as noble, brave and valiant as he is!