Walls

About 2 weeks ago I received a call informing me that a dear friends father had passed away.  I've known the family for 35 years and though saddened I wasn't overly so.   He was in his late 80's, his quality of life due to illness was not what one would have hoped and most importantly, had lived a good and full life.   My lack of reaction was not too much of a concern to me.   Then over the weekend I received another call, this same friends brother in law had passed away suddenly, leaving his wife and 2 college age children.   Again, my reaction was sadness but not grief and now I was getting a little concerned.   I am not overly emotional in general, but, my lack of real reaction to this news was off kilter for me.   

I started to get a bit concerned that the constant bombardment of death, of horrific injuries coming out of Afghanistan had de- sensitized me.  Was I actually so used to this that my reaction would be so tempered?    Each DoD announcement I open with dread, I steel myself and, not actually but in theory, open the email with my hands over my eyes, peeking through my fingers like one would a scary movie.  I do not frequent the icasualty website, I just can't watch the #'s rise.   Every time I hear of another KIA it's as if a pin is stuck in my heart - it breaks for the loss, for the service member and their family.  It aches for the death of the dreams - for the end of a future.  Yet I don't cry.

I am far from cold, usually extremely sympathetic and even empathetic.  So what the heck is going on?

Well I think I figured it out tonight.   I went to the wake and as I was saying good bye my newly widowed friend came over, understandably in tears.   Finally I felt it, the tell tale signs that tears and emotion were bubbling to the surface.  Then - I shook my head, straightened up and it was gone.   GONE!!!!  Another old friend looked at me a bit oddly, she had seen my eyes well up and watched me literally shake myself and be fully composed.   Knowing me well she wanted to know first, how did I just do that and second - why ?
We went outside to talk about it a bit and in speaking to her I realized what it was.   I just looked at her and said, "Stacey, if I start I'm afraid I'll never stop".

I'll cry for Blake, Wayne, Gabe, Jeffrey, Cody, Doc... I'll cry for each of the 3000+ who have given their lives.  I'll sob for Matty, Tj, Rod and Ski - for all our wounded warriors who came home, but are learning to live differently.  I'll break down and possibly not come back from the tragedy of  all who are living with the horrible effects of PTSD.   I'll scream at the night for the loss of innocence - for the visions these kids will carry with them all of their lives.  Finally I'll dissolve in a river for all the Gold star and Purple Heart family members out there who had to bury a loved one, who have to watch their child or spouse struggle to make sense of it all.  For all the Blue Star families who have to wave their loved ones off to war with a stoic face.   The longer I'm around my military family, the more  awestruck I am with us all.  

The oddest part of it all is the times I do cry.  I've been reduced to tears by someone inquiring about my nephew, for their concern for his safety.  I've cried at care package packs - overcome at the outpouring of love and support from those there, many of whom do not have a loved one overseas or in the military.  It was a major tissue alert the day I walked into my neighborhood deli and they proudly showed me 6 cartons of goodies to send to my nephews battalion.   I had to leave an event over the holidays as I watched my town's citizens literally pour into a holiday care package donation party - their generosity for men and women they would never meet but whom they wanted to make sure knew Americans had not forgotten them quite literally overwhelmed me.

I'm very strong and I realized I had built a wall to protect my heart, the weight of all the sadness is just too much some days. Now don't get me wrong, I acknowledge the emotion, I feel the sadness, the full weight of the moment but don't live there.  I'm far from an ostrich, I'm actually pretty much a brutal realist.    I had to find a way to not let it color my every day.   So to fight it, to save myself the constant battering of emotion - I just don't allow myself the luxury of giving in - it's the only way for me to deal.    I'm sure the day will come when I sit down and have myself an awesome cry.  This isn't a constant of how I am, it seems to directly relate to dealing with deployment.  So for now, I'll continue to live inside the wall - not because it's safe, it's not - not because it feels better, it doesn't - only because, I really am afraid I'll never stop.