We met with our casualty assistance officer today. We were told we could expect the results of the investigation in the spring of 2015. My heart is breaking. Don’t they know we need closure? As long as I know nothing, I feel that you won’t be completely at rest or maybe it’s just me that won’t rest. The final casualty report says your cause of death was from “multiple injuries”. I think I can figure that out myself because an 24,000 pound helicopter came crashing down on you. I have to keep that vision and everything else my brain imagines in my head until they send that report. The Army is so frustrating, this process is frustrating and not being able to talk to you is so frustrating. Jake, I need answers. You know how my brain works. I want to know everything, but this is something I need to know. I need to know why I don’t have you anymore!

Today Ray and I looked at some property for possibly building a house. It’s so green and beautiful here and you never got to see it. You never got to visit like we had planned. I even have your bedroom all ready for you and nobody has slept there yet but your sweet little niece. I’ll have to tell her next time she comes that she is sleeping in a bed I prepared for you. I’m sure you know about her invisible heart string. It’s attached to her heart and the other end is attached to your heart all the way up in heaven. I have one too and when we want to remind you how much we love you, we pull on our heart strings together. Can you feel us tugging at your heart? She has such a perfect and unflawed understanding of where you went. Of course she cried when she was told you went to heaven, but now she smiles when she talks about how happy you are there. She told me you’re so lucky because you get to be with Jesus and all the doggies that we used to have. I wish it was so simple for me. I wish I could see the positive side without the anger I feel over the waste of young lives that war brings. I wish I could get past the great loss and heartache that sometimes paralyzes me and renders me useless; unable to do anything but cry for you.

There is a beautiful Lake here that we like to walk around. It’s called Racoon River Park and it has everything that you would love; a people beach and a dog beach, little league fields, a huge dog park that goes back into the woods and a lake for canoeing. There are memorial benches all around the lake. Maybe I should get one with your name on it. Maybe it can be my special place in Iowa to be with you. The problem is that it is so hard to see your name memorialized. It’s already on a tombstone and a memorial wall and there are plans to add it to other memorials. It’s wonderful and beautiful that you are so well honored and remembered, but hard for the mom who gave you that name. It’s both bitter and sweet.

Speaking of dogs and heaven, I sent this to Jake when he was in Afghanistan. He said, “Now, that’s my kind of Heaven!”. I hope he’s there right now with Sophie, Rufus, Roscoe, Chelsea, Watson, Hennie and Hank.

I’ve been thinking about death frequently since you left. Even though my faith allows me to know that death isn’t final, there has always been something tragic about someone leaving this life. Recently a friend lost a grandparent and a famous celebrity killed himself and it’s all over the news. I feel nothing. I think it might be because for me, just about anyone else dying is far less tragic than losing you. I wonder if it will ever bother me again. It seems like death doesn’t bother me unless it’s the death of another soldier. Am I becoming that self involved that the world around me has no affect on me unless it relates to my own loss. Even the thought of my own death brings no fear or anxiety. I just really don’t care anymore. Is that normal? Probably not, but maybe it’s okay for now.

Jake, You haven’t been gone that long and we have lost 19 more Americans since you were killed. I’m becoming angry about this war and angry that peace seems to be dissolving all over the Middle-East. We don’t have leaders who support the military, yet the military is still over there. The only good thing for me personally is that I don’t have to worry about you being there anymore. You still pop into my mind constantly, and sometimes I even think to send you a text message to let you know I love and miss you. I bet you get that message as soon as it enters my mind. I bet I don’t even need my phone for that. I miss you, buddy and I don’t think that will ever change until I see you again.

This week I’ve had a good friend visit from Denver. It’s hard to give myself permission to grieve when trying to entertain, and it’s hard to cope with the guilt of trying to put my grief on the back burner. I know you would want me to live my life and be happy, but when I try to do that I feel like a terrible mother. I still have the heaviness of grief every second of the day, even when I laugh. You and I have always had the need for humor and laughter every day. I don’t think there has been much about either of us that is completely serious, but I feel as though that love for life and love for laughter is fading from me since your death. I hope it’s temporary, because this life is too hard without laughter. I miss it, but mostly I miss laughing with you. I miss being idiots together. You brought me so much joy and laughter and I don’t know where else to find it. Maybe it is just a unique part of who we were together that it can never be replaced. Please tell me that I’ll find it in heaven. I know you’re there and I am trying my best to get there to be with you again. I love you, Jake and miss your laugh every single day!

I have had some rough patches the last couple of days. I’ve been a little angry about the accident still. I want your death to make sense, but the Army offers so little. I have medals, a little life insurance money and a carefully folded flag, but no answers and no son. I keep thinking about the pilots who were flying. I’m told it was “pilot error”. They were both severely wounded. I was told one had a broken neck and one had a broken spine and that they were flown to Germany and that’s the last anyone has heard. I have the name for one and only the last name for the other. One of your buddies said, “I hope they’re dead for what they did”, but don’t worry, I chastised him lovingly as you would expect. I keep putting myself in the place of those poor pilots. Even putting aside their injuries, they know you were killed and I’m sure that has to be tormenting them. I want to find them and assure them that they are forgiven. I don’t want them to have that burden on their shoulders.

I keep thinking about the time you were “jumped” from behind by that kid you knew from church and high school? You were upset, but didn’t want to file charges. You wanted to show him forgiveness. I learned something from you during that time. I was so angry at him for doing something so unfair and for hurting you, but you so quickly forgave him. I remember seeing the two of you coming out of the bishop’s office shaking hands and you were smiling. Jake, you have always had a gift for forgiveness, so I want to find the pilots and do exactly what you would do. I want to do it for them but also for you. You were such an example to me in that way and I know the Lord gave you that gift to teach the rest of us. Ray said that you didn’t have a mean bone in your body. You never knew an enemy and I admire and love that about you.

I met with another Gold Star mom for lunch today. We sat for three hours and talked. Her son’s death date is only 3 days before yours but three years ago. Her son had been in the Air Force for 9 years, so he was a bit older and she said she was used to him being gone. I hadn’t even had time to get used to you being in the military, let alone being away. I don’t know if it’s any harder or easier on any of us, just different, but it is nice to know I am not alone and there are others who can assure me I’m not going crazy. She visited the Middle East Conflicts Wall Memorial in Marseilles, Illinois and your name is already there. She took a picture and also used a pencil to scratch a copy for me. It made me cry. I’m so proud of the selfless man you grew to become, but at the same time, it’s just more “stuff” that can never replace the void in my life. I don’t need them to memorialize you because you will never be forgotten. You could never be forgotten.

I’ve noticed that the times I feel a little angry, I feel further from my Father in Heaven. It’s not just something we learn in Sunday school. It’s real. I know I need to trust Him, Jake. I know I need to remember that you are doing great; without worries, fears or pains of this world. I need to be grateful every single day for the almost 22 years I had with you. Why was it so much easier in the beginning? Was it because I was a bit more numb and in shock than I am now? Is it because I expected to be further along in the grieving process by now? I don’t know. I need to change something but I’m not always sure what it is I need to change.

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.