In Memoriam

Eight weeks after I was engaged to be married, my husband to be was deployed to Afghanistan. I was living in a non military community, and was ignorant to the ways of the wives. The military wives, that is. Military wives living in a military community have a support network all their own, coping skills, etc. i wasnt privy to any of this. The support that I got from those around me sounded a lot like, "Afghanistan is a lot less dangerous than Iraq. At least you don't have to worry as much." Although I knew it sounded ignorant, I was grateful for the words and the intentions behind them. So, very unlike my worrisome nature, worry, I did not.

I spent my days writing him letters, making him cookies, and obsessively planning our wedding. I completely put out of my head any remote possibility that he could be hurt. I fit the cliche, "That happens to other people. It won't happen to me." I chose not to allow my absolute worst nightmare to manifest in my head, fearing that if I did, I might cause it to manifest in the world. So I never thought about it. Memorial Day weekend 2005 I got the call that Andy had been injured in an IED blast, and we began the uphill road toward recovery, spending the next 8 months at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, DC.

Now, as a mother, I worry less about my husband's safety, and totally about my children's. My worst possible fear has become something terrible happening to my kids. Although I maniacally do everything I can to prevent any possible injury or demise, I still choose to ignore the fact that something could happen to them. I allow them to stay with a babysitter, ride the bus, ride in a car with my parents, and play (sometimes) unsupervised. When I was a little girl, if I wanted to cry on cue, I would think about my grandmother dying. As an adult, I would never ever ever want to imagine life without my boys. Not for any reason ever. It is hard to even type it without fearing reprisal.

My faith teaches me that as humans we do not control destiny and that God is in control. I believe that premise. I also believe that bad things happen to good people and vice versa. Even still, I can't help but feel a little superstitious. Although I believe in God's ultimate authority, I still will never ever consider the possibility of life without my children in the world, lest I introduce the idea into the realm of possibility. I think we are all that way, otherwise we might never get out of bed in the morning. We have to keep living life, in all it's sticky floor, dirty laundry, late for work glory. If I worried about every tiny step then my kids might still crawl.

A little boy from my son's school, a teacher's child, was killed last week, on Thanksgiving in an ATV accident. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. It has brought front and forward my worst fear. I couldn't rest until I found out how he died, so that I could add the activity to the list if things I would never let Austin do again. An air of sorrow an grief looms large around me.

Although I have a child with needs like Austin has, I tend to treat them as idiosyncrasies rather than debilitating life inhibitors. I am sure to many parents, having a child with Asperger's might be the proverbial "worst possible thing" that could happen to them. We have just kept going and dealt with each new issue in kind, not stopping to think about how horrible it is that this fate has befallen us. We have embraced it.

My heart is heavy for the family at school this week, and for the school family. I did pause mid rant about the messy bathroom this morning and give my kid an extra hug and I love you, feeling fully confident that while we are away from one another today he will stay safe so that we can resume our conversation about bathroom hygiene this evening.



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