I am too mindful of dates and I wish it would go away. Whenever I see one, my mind instantly thinks about whether you were alive or dead when each event occurred. It’s making me feel like a bit crazy. The same is true with Thursdays. Every Thursday marks one more week that you’ve been gone.

I knew the holidays would be difficult and I’m in the middle of them. I tried, but I just couldn’t pull out the many boxes of memories and decorate. I couldn’t hang the hand-made ornaments your loving little hands made over the years. I can’t hang your stocking that I joyfully stuffed with your favorite things 21 years in a row. I want everything to be okay; I really do, but it’s not. You’re not here. You won’t be coming through the door on Christmas, bringing that special joy that only you can bring.

You died on Thursday, Thanksgiving is on a Thursday and now Christmas and New Years are both on Thursdays. I’ll get through Christmas, and then I’ll be faced with the most difficult thing; starting a new year in which you were not alive. You were still alive in 2014. I saw you, I hugged you, I spoke with you and I spent time with you in 2014, but that will not be true for 2015. I don’t want a fresh new year to arrive. I don’t want to exist in a new year without you.

I am grateful for the wonderful memories I have of so many holidays with you and the laughter you consistently blessed us with. You have been my joy and I can actually smile when I day dream of these special times, but sometimes I just can’t bear the thought of no more new memories. I suppose those will happen later on in the next life, but until then, thank you Jake for the love and laughter you always brought with you wherever you went. I know you continue to bless others every single day. You are such a bright light in my life, and forever and always I will miss you every moment until I see you again.

My last Christmas with you…

I’ve been praying to find closure in hearing from the pilots. I had hoped to know that they were okay and that maybe my letter might have helped them find peace in some way. I received a second response from someone in charge first:

Ms Katzenbach,

My name is XXX XXX and I am the Battalion Commander for 2-158th Assault Helicopter Battalion.  XXX and XXX are pilots under my command here in garrison. I was commanding in another location of Afghanistan at the time of the accident, but the events have affected us all very deeply. I am truly sorry for your loss and appreciate the note reaching out to my pilots.  I will ensure the crew sees the note and provide them your contact information.  Your strength and compassion is compelling and will greatly assist with the healing process.  If I can be of any assistance to you my contact information is below.

Very Respectfully,
XXX

But, later today, I finally heard from one of the two pilots:

Dear Ms. Heidi Katzenbach,

I recently received your email regarding your Son, Jacob, and the pilots involved in the helicopter accident.  My name is XXX XXX.  I am unfortunate to say I was one of the helicopter pilots the evening this tragedy occurred.  I cannot express to you enough my sincere condolences, from the bottom of my heart, but foremost I want to tell you I am so sorry.  I am sorry for so many reasons.  For someone to leave us at such an early part of their life, I can’t begin to imagine the pain and suffering that you have been through.  I know this has affected many others as well, Jacob’s family, friends, his Infantry unit, the flight crew, and our Aviation unit.  

 When I first read your email the other day it actually brought tears to my eyes just knowing that you have expressed concern for our health.  I want you to know I am ok, but have some injuries that will be with me forever.  I can actually say that my injuries will allow me to never forget that night.  

 I can’t say that I knew Jacob personally but often think of him and wish I did.  He has not been forgotten.  Occassionally, XXX and I will have lunch and converse about the accident, about Jacob, and all the “what if’s” that quite possibly may have changed the outcome.  It is only natural for one to feel responsible for this.  That is part of being human and part of who I am.  Thank you for your comforting words and prayers, which have brought me some peace.  That means so much to not only me, but my wife, my children, and my family. 

Very Respectfully, XXX XXX

My heart breaks to think how many people this accident has affected. At times I cannot bear thinking of the various struggles, regrets, sadness and responsibility so many feel, and no matter what I do or say, I cannot take away that burden. I don’t know if this will ever end, but I will continue hoping and praying it will get better with time. I hope there is such a thing as closure, but it seems there is always someone with an open wound somewhere.

Hi Jake,

In our last conversation, I said, “Hi Buddy” and asked if you minded that I still call you “Buddy” even though you’re a grown man and you said, “No, I don’t mind”. That was the day of the helicopter crash. I’m moving on to dogs now, but keep listening because there is a purpose. I’m sure there is nobody who loves dogs the same way we do. We always found the same things cute or funny about them and it seemed that nobody else enjoyed them in this same way. We would giggle at how Molly would stand or how Max had such slim hips… After you died, I asked Ray if we could name our next dog, “Buddy” after you. Guess what? We now have Buddy! He makes me so happy and whenever I see something cute about his anatomy I smile all by myself, but I know you are there smiling with me, because I don’t think you leave me alone for long. I wish you could run and play with us at the park. I wish you could snuggle on the floor with “Buddy” and watch TV. I miss that sight. I miss having you under my roof where I could always keep you safe and happy. Don’t worry Jake, I know you’re happy and I know you are doing something magnificent. I just miss having you here with me for so many reasons. Our love for dogs is just one of my favorite!

Speaking of cute… we have a friend who was just baptized this past week at 95 years old! He never married, so he has no children or grandchildren, but tells us this is something he has always longed for. I wonder why we all live such different lives. I wonder why some of us live so long and others, like you only need to be here a short time. I think much is a result of our choices, but I know that God does with us what he needs to for his purposes as well. How grateful I am for this knowledge. How grateful I am to believe you were needed for a greater purpose. I always knew you were special, but after losing you, I now know that I was blessed to be the mother of someone truly magnificent! I love you more than ever!

Look out for this sweet man. I love him, and I think he will be there soon!

After Jake died, it didn’t take me long to figure out that serving others calms the grief more than anything. I wish I could tell all Gold Star family members to give it a try! For me, it’s the answer, and I know it makes Jake smile, as he cared so much for the people around him his entire life.

As I’ve said before, I’ve had a need to be in contact with Jake’s brothers who were with him on the helicopter as they recovered, and also the others who were in the shadow bird; first responding to the wounded and then caring for and transporting Jake. It’s always a good day when I’m privileged to have a conversation or a quick text with any of them. I know Jake lives on in them and I feel a strong connection to my boy through them.

I had a passionate desire to connect with the families of the two other casualties from Jake’s unit. They died together as a result of an IED about 6 weeks after Jake’s death and with the news of it, my heart re-broke. I have met one set of parents of the soldier from Nebraska, and I fly out Thursday to meet the other in California! I am so grateful for the opportunity to love them and help them feel less alone.

I spent some time with Jake’s recruiter last month, and had the opportunity to assure him that nobody is responsible for Jake’s death, and certainly not him.

Last night, I finally made my last contact that has weighed so heavy on my mind since Jake’s death. I finally tracked down the email for the commander of the pilots and sent him this letter:

Dear Colonel XXX,

I am the Gold Star Mother of PFC Jacob H Wykstra who was killed on May 28th of this year in Maruf, Afghanistan. He was the only casualty resulting from a Black Hawk crash. I have worked to find contact information for the pilots who were flying the helicopter that night, but my long-time friend, Colonel Andrew XXX thought it best that I first communicate to them through you, their commander.

The pilots flying that night were CW2 Adam XXX and CW2 Josh XXX. I have prayed for them for 6 months now and I hope they are recovering and doing well. I feel a need to contact them because I cannot bear the thought of anyone believing they are responsible for my son’s death. I don’t know this to be the case, but I can only imagine the load they bare.

My family and I realize that war zones can be chaotic and that accidents happen. Jake also knew the risks that come with being a member of the infantry. Jake had a gift. He was always an extremely forgiving and loving person, and he would not want his death to affect anyone in a negative way. What we would like to see, and I feel confident in speaking for my son, is healing and the ability to move forward in a positive way to live good lives for ourselves and for Jake. I know none of us affected by this tragedy will ever forget, and we should not, but I pray that we will be able to accept that Jake’s time was up, the Lord took him mercifully, he has a job to do elsewhere and that we will all see him again.

If I could make this situation better for anyone I would do it, but there is nothing I can do except hope and pray that my words might give comfort to these pilots. My son died for a cause he believed in; freedom for all people around the world, and I am grateful that I raised a son willing to die for that cause. I know he died well in the eyes of God and I don’t worry about him. I do worry about those who are still living and struggling.

I am so proud of Jake and his commitment to serving others, and I am grateful for the pilots and for all of you who serve our nation, as well as  other nations that rely on assistance from our armed forces. I could never express my gratitude enough.

Please respond to let me know you received this letter and please pass it on. I hope the pilots will take a moment to respond, and I pray that I might bring them some peace.

I was surprised to receive such a quick and wonderful response:

Ms. Katzenbach, 

     I too have prayed for many months concerning the crash that took Jake’s life.  I have of course prayed often for the physical healing of all those injured in the crash and even more fervently for Jake’s soul and some manner of peace and comfort for your family.  I did not know from what you drew strength in such times but from your email, I have inferred a number of things.  I believe now we share a faith in the Lord and I note your comment about us living His plan.  I have never been tested with such a tragic loss as yours and truly hope when I am tested that I can be as strong in faith and character as you seem to be.  Your concern for others – whom you’ve never met – and initiative to bring them comfort is humbling.

      You are perceptive also to suspect there may be folks in our formation who feel some responsibility for the suffering and loss.  I know how I feel and I saw some of the crews’ emotion when they learned of Jake’s death.  Our Army Profession is based on trust in all things and our unit speaks much about always protecting the sacred bond with our customers (that’s usually the Infantry).  So, as professionals, any aviation event that results in injury or loss prompts us into a lot of self-examination and what-ifs.  Too much of this is likely unhealthy and could prevent the emotional peace you spoke of in your email and that you wish for Josh and Adam.  We will continue to monitor how the aircrew and others are doing emotionally.  I will share your email with these folks and I’ll help them determine the best next step.  I think they will find your strength as inspiring as I do.

      I think of your son often, especially in the last few weeks as we have just recently returned home and now have time to reflect on the deployment.  Reflection sparked by ceremonies, senior leader visits, and other events that often cause us to think through our best days and our worst days of the deployment.  The day of Jake’s death was certainly our worst – but even that day had me offer a prayer of thanks as there could have been so many other lives lost.  I hope that makes some kind of sense.

      I am grateful for you reaching out to me and for your concern about our folks.  I intended to write you after we had been home for a bit – I like to think I would have followed through.  However, your email has forced me to action now and I am grateful for that too.  I owe you some feedback about the aircrew.  Much of the force started post deployment leave this week and we’re spread all around but I will get your words to them in very short order.

God Bless,

Colonel XXX

I have felt a weight on my shoulder for six months, and today I feel as though I have accomplished my goal; to bring a little peace and comfort to others affected by Jake’s death. It has taken awhile, as the Army is not willing to give out private information, but my words have been heard by those I wanted so badly to comfort.