"My love, if I could reach up and hold a star for every time you've made me smile, the entire evening sky would be in the palm of my hand."To even begin to understand a world without Jon, I think I need to explain the circumstances under which this angel of mine first came into my life.
~Unknown
When Jon and I went on our first date, it wasn’t even technically a “date” as such. We went to
Bertucci’s Pizzeria, where I ate an entire pizza – by myself – and then saw the
epic drama Old School…minus the epic drama part. Jon later told me that he’d thought we would share
the pizza. On the way home, he’d almost
totaled his Toyota Prius when he spun out of control on the snow that continued to make an appearance in New England as late as March.
He also told me that meeting my dad when he’d picked me up had terrified
him – we weren’t even on a real date and already we were skipping ahead to the
“meet-the-parents” phase! But he grinned,
gritted his teeth, and subjected himself to all that pain and suffering…for
me. Come to think of it, Jon did pay for
both of us at the movie theater since I’d conveniently forgotten my
wallet. So maybe it was a date after
all. And even though it wasn’t all roses
and candlelight, it was the beginning of something truly magical, something akin
to a fairytale. I'd almost given up on
fairytales, but with Jon I got my very own Cinderella story – fairytale
romance, fairytale wedding, fairytale life.
Or so I
thought.
We first met in 2002 when I was a freshman
and he was a senior in college. At eighteen years old, I was a dedicated
academic, allergic to exercise, and getting dirty ranked low on my list of
priorities. I wasn't even a citizen, having moved from Scotland to the United States when I was ten years old. Despite these handicaps, I loved military
history and decided to join the Army ROTC program. I’d seen all the “Army of One” commercials on
TV where female Soldiers jumped out of airplanes and blasted through targets
with M16 rifles. September 11th
was still fresh on everyone’s minds, and I thought to myself, “hey, I could do
that…right?” At the time, Iraq was only
a figment of the government’s imagination.
The only ROTC instructor with combat experience was Master Sergeant Matthew Eversmann, who was made famous by Josh Harnett’s
character in the movie Black Hawk Down. By my senior year, however, the odd man out
was the instructor without multiple
deployments.
When I first showed up at the ROTC
building in my little white shorts and silver hoop earrings (I was yet to
undergo my transformation from “girly girl” to “tough warrior”), my future husband was the Cadet Battalion Commander. After months of learning by some trial and
lots of error, I began to understand what I had signed up for as an ROTC
Cadet. Better yet, I came to know the
man I would later agree to marry. I know I'm biased but I can honestly say that I've never met anyone quite like Jon. The fact that he essentially broke the "dating rules" when he ordered the other guys not to come near me so that he could have me all for himself still makes me laugh to this day. And I always smile when I think about the time he called me en route from Fort Bragg to tell me that he wouldn't make it to an awards ceremony that night, only to show up on my doorstep an hour later and scoop me into his arms for a Hollywood-style kiss. When I got my award, he jumped out of his seat and announced to the entire roomful of people, "That's my wife!!" Although that wasn't an entirely accurate statement at the time, it made me happier to hear those words than whatever award I received that night. That was the very essence of my Jon - mischievous, funny, and always able to surprise me my sweeping me off my feet when I need it most.
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| Jon and I at the awards ceremony |
While
I stayed at Hopkins to complete my degree and ROTC requirements, Jon graduated
and entered onto active duty in June, 2003.
He began training almost immediately and succeeded in graduating from
Fort Benning’s infamous Ranger School, a course with an overall failure rate of
50%. Sleep-deprived, starving, and
mentally exhausted, Ranger School students trudge up the steep mountains of
Georgia and though the swamps of Florida while manically chanting to themselves
the mantra of “never quit, never quit, never quit…”. I have yet to see Jon’s father more proud
than he was on the day Jon earned the coveted black and gold Ranger Tab; a
Ranger himself, a Vietnam veteran, and the father of two sons both serving as Army
officers, Mark was well within his bragging rights as a parent.
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| Jon and his dad at Ranger School graduation (Ft. Benning, GA) |
By the time Jon dropped to his knee
and asked me to be his wife, I had been dreaming about those magical words for two
years. Our Cape Cod wedding was like a scene out of a bridal magazine, and our whirlwind honeymoon to
Jamaica was nothing short of heavenly. When
we returned home, however, we had only five weeks together before Jon deployed
to Iraq on July 31st, 2006. Looking
back, I don’t know how we got ready for him to leave so quickly – we literally just
pushed aside the bubble of newlywed bliss, buckled down, and made it
happen. In
a no-frills, no nonsense ceremony at a parking lot on Fort Bragg, I
tearfully bid my new husband farewell. Jon
wiped away my tears and assured me that I gave him so much to look forward to
when he returned home. No amount of
assurances, however, could stop me from fearing the worst. As I watched the white, prison-like bus carrying
Jon and his Soldiers disappear into the distance, I already missed him with
every fiber in my being. The longing that ensued in the weeks and months that followed was like a physical ache for which there was no cure besides
time. As I quickly discovered, time
isn’t exactly a “wonder drug” remedy, not when you’re anxiously waiting by the
phone for twenty-four hours a day and checking email five times an hour for any
word from a war zone thousands of miles away.
The news coverage didn’t help; this was back when sensational headlines
about mounting casualties were the main theme of every news ticker and photos
of fallen Soldiers constantly graced the cover of the Army Times. I couldn’t go to the gym or turn on the TV at
my house without being confronted with my greatest fears on a daily basis.
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| Saying goodbye to my sweetheart |
While I embarked on my new life as a
law school student, Jon became a minor celebrity of sorts in
his unit. He performed logistical feats like
delivering sixty boxes of hot pizza to Soldiers at nine different outlying
landing zones by helicopter and produced cold diet Coke for caffeine addicts
and Cuban cigars for his commander. He
didn’t have to do any of these things, but he did them anyway – quietly – and
earned the respect of his peers, superiors and subordinates alike. Truth be told, he was never crazy about being
the Supply and Logistics Officer, and often noted wryly that it was a thankless
position; no one noticed when the job was done well, but all hell broke loose
when someone didn’t have exactly what they needed when they needed it. Jon, however, had the rare ability to make
the best out of any situation, no matter how dire. To improve the unit’s quality of life, he
constructed a makeshift movie theater by whitewashing the wall of an abandoned
building, blacking out the windows, and installing a wide-screen projector. He put together a schedule of movie nights, complete with bootleg copies of the most recent releases, and provided popcorn
for the staff. A die-hard movie buff,
Jon was also known for ability to produce movie quotes on cue that could break
through the tension of any situation and have everyone rolling on the floor in
laughter. The Squadron
Command Sergeant Major later told me that one of his favorites was when Jon would
shout: “How dare you come in here and
bark at me like junk yard dog? I am the
President of the United States!” This was from a scene in the movie Clear
and Present Danger. The CSM would
usually try to get Jon to shout that quote out at least three or four times a
week and it never got old.
 |
| Jon on patrol in Iraq |
During December of 2006, Jon and I shared
two brief but unforgettable weeks together for what the Army calls “R&R” leave. We wanted to go on a cruise but figured our families would never forgive us if we abandoned them at Christmas. Instead, we planned a whirlwind trip, first
to New Hampshire, then to Washington, and finally to Florida. It was on Christmas day that year that I last
saw my husband alive. This was back when the airlines allowed you to accompany your Soldier through the security checkpoint to the gate under certain circumstances and I guess redeploying on Christmas Day qualified as one of those special occasions. As I watched him
walk down the platform towards the plane and caught a final glimpse of his sweet face, a nagging fear left me feeling light-headed and strangely uneasy.
I had no logical reason to believe that I would never see him again, yet
I sensed instinctively that something just wasn’t quite right. His unit had already lost two officers, and Jon was profoundly affected by their deaths, knowing all too well that it could
happen to any of them. Over the next few months, we spoke several times about those two officers and how their deaths continued to impact their families back at home. Jon found several pictures of their funerals posted on the Internet and told me that what literally "killed" him was to see the fiancee of one of the Soldiers receiving a folded flag while breaking down in tears. I didn't allow myself to imagine at the time that I would soon be the subject of those very same photographs. I didn't want to believe it. I knew it happened but I thought it could never happen to us.
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| Jon and I on Christmas Eve, the night before he left to go back to Iraq |
I will save the details of what came next for a later entry. The way the story ends is, by this point, no secret. For now, I want to remember Jon in those last few moments while I sat with him at the departure gate on Christmas Day, holding his hand and breathing him in for the very last time. He was simply, in a word, irreplaceable. He lived every day by the motto
"non sibi" - not for one's self. He loved life with a
passion and vigor, no matter what challenges he faced, and constantly sought to
share that passion with others. As a husband, he was perfect. As a brother and a son, God doesn't make them any better. Over the
past five years, I hope that I’ve managed, in some ways, to make him proud. I want him to smile down on me
from up there in heaven, though I’m sure he’s shaken his head once or twice and
asked himself what on earth I was thinking.
To say that he is missed does not even begin to describe the gravity of
his loss. No matter what I may do in the
future, I will continue to speak to him as though he's still sitting right here next to me and ask him to give me the
strength to find my way as I trudge clumsily forward. I will continue to reach out to others who
find themselves in this impossible situation and lean heavily on the friends
and family without whom I would not be standing here – though shakily at times
– today. Above all else, just as Jon
told me on the eve of our wedding, I will continue to love him, my beloved husband
and best friend, “always and forever…and nothing will change that – ever."
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