Ron is going to be buried in Arlington National Cemetery. I don’t know the date yet, but whenever it is, I’ll be there. I’m at work today, trying to focus, but finding it impossible. I feel like I have PTSD and I wasn’t even there when it happened. But even still, my mind conjures up this vision of Ron in a Humvee with his fellow soldiers, driving through the barren hills of Afghanistan. Out of nowhere his truck explodes. My whole body aches when I think of what he must have endured. I’m in that phase where you momentarily forget they’re gone, only to suddenly and painfully remember the truth. For the third time in my 27 years, I’m blindsided by grief. Images of him being killed in action debilitate me.
I just looked at his Facebook page for what feels like the millionth time. Each picture fills my eyes with tears and my heart with anger and frustration. How is this for real? How is he so permanently gone? Why him?
My relationship with Ron wasn’t a simple one. There remain parts of the story which I will keep forever in my mind, never divulging to an audience. Some chapters in one’s life, should remain unread. But outwardly speaking, he was someone in my life who made a profound impact. He changed my life entirely that day I met him at O’Connells. It is clear by reading the outpouring of love on his Memorial Page that he was so full of life and love to all those he knew. One girl wrote of Ron, “You would meet someone once and consider them a friend forever.” That really captures something I felt for Ron. However brief the encounter, you were with him forever and he with you.
My eyes are swollen, my head is pounding. My heart aches, an ache that it’s felt before. I cry not only for Ron, but for his family. For his friends. For his comrades. The only comfort I can find right now is in knowing that he will never again feel any pain. My friend Lindsay wrote a beautiful post on her blog about the things that really matter in life. She too has lost someone to war. She wrote, “Ron, say hi to Chris for me. There's a special place for guys like you. And Erika, I hope you find some comfort in that.” And I do. They’re all in good company.
I just looked at his Facebook page for what feels like the millionth time. Each picture fills my eyes with tears and my heart with anger and frustration. How is this for real? How is he so permanently gone? Why him?
My relationship with Ron wasn’t a simple one. There remain parts of the story which I will keep forever in my mind, never divulging to an audience. Some chapters in one’s life, should remain unread. But outwardly speaking, he was someone in my life who made a profound impact. He changed my life entirely that day I met him at O’Connells. It is clear by reading the outpouring of love on his Memorial Page that he was so full of life and love to all those he knew. One girl wrote of Ron, “You would meet someone once and consider them a friend forever.” That really captures something I felt for Ron. However brief the encounter, you were with him forever and he with you.
My eyes are swollen, my head is pounding. My heart aches, an ache that it’s felt before. I cry not only for Ron, but for his family. For his friends. For his comrades. The only comfort I can find right now is in knowing that he will never again feel any pain. My friend Lindsay wrote a beautiful post on her blog about the things that really matter in life. She too has lost someone to war. She wrote, “Ron, say hi to Chris for me. There's a special place for guys like you. And Erika, I hope you find some comfort in that.” And I do. They’re all in good company.
In the words on Maya Angelou…
And when great souls die,
after a period, peace blooms,
slowly and always irregularly.
Spaces fill with a kind of
soothing, electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.
And when great souls die,
after a period, peace blooms,
slowly and always irregularly.
Spaces fill with a kind of
soothing, electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.