49. Operation Rolling Thunder 2012

"I wish R.I.P. meant Return if Possible."

~Anonymous

While perusing the blogs I follow over this past week, a quote from a recent entry popped up on the news feed for the Widow's Voice: "Everyday I see couples walking down the street, arms around each other or holding hands or sharing a meal and I feel something so primal and so deeply ingrained that I can't label it well. It's simply a longing. A longing for the feeling of someone else who fits with you so perfectly, that you can't believe you ever lived without them. Physical closeness. Flirting. Romance. Love. I'm wired to want it, but I'm terrified of it. I think about it all the time, but I'm not ready for it yet. I'm lonely, but the cure for my loneliness isn't a relationship. One big conundrum." (Cassie on Widow's Voice)

Her words ring true in a way that's almost too intimately familiar. I'm trying to find other ways to fill the void that the physical closeness, the flirting, the romance, and the love used to occupy, but these things are irreplaceable, especially when they were once shared with an irreplaceable man. I wasn't ready five years ago and it's taken me five years to figure out that I'm still not ready now. Maybe I never will be. Like Cassie says, one big conundrum. I try to tell myself nope, don't need that stuff to be happy. But then I get so mad and angry at everyone who has it. After a trial run of going Facebook-free for almost a year, I've come close many times since then to shutting down my glimpse into the happy lives of others via social media simply because it's so prevalent, so in my face, and there are many days on which I honestly just don't want to see it. These aren't my proudest of moments; I feel like a little kid having an internal temper tantrum. I want to wail: "It's just not FAIR!!" (Am I still allowed to sit and pout in a corner as a 28-year-old?) "I had all of that too, and it got taken away...I want it back!!" I look at photos of others getting married or welcoming their first child into the world and I want to scream and break things and throw my computer out a window. But I guess I can't live in a bubble of resentment forever - people around me will go on to live the kind of life I thought Jon and I would have, and I shouldn't blame them for that. It's not their fault that they're lucky enough not to have felt the pain of an absence that only seems to grow more palpable with time.

With all that bitterness churning just below the surface, I've noticed I do a lot of frowning these days. Those dang wrinkles across my forehead seem to be getting more pronounced by the minute. Ironically, the last time I smiled - really, truly smiled - was over Memorial Day weekend when I participated in a motorcycle rally known as Operation Rolling Thunder. Rolling Thunder is an incredible, one-of-a-kind annual tribute to POWs, MIAs, and Fallen Soldiers. The event started in 1988 with 2,500 participants, and has grown significantly since then; approximately 900,000 participants and spectators are now involved in this awe-inspiring demonstration. The streets of our nation's capital literally shut down from morning until early evening during the day on which the rally takes place. It's pretty amazing - when else do people put life on hold like that in Washington D.C.?

The sea of bikes at the beginning of the Rolling Thunder route

I rode near the front of the formation with a couple named Laura and Adam Olisewski. They didn't wear any fancy clothing or talk to me like they had something to prove. They were just happy to serve as "Gold Star Family VIP Escorts" and honor those who deserve to be be remembered. It had been a long time since I smiled that that...perhaps since the day of my wedding. People lined the streets of the route, cheered loudly as we rode by, and waved American flags, both big and small. There's also a Marine who's become pretty famous for standing at the beginning of the procession and saluting every bike that drives by from start to finish. A fellow widow friend told me she asked to shake his hand last year after it was all said and done, but he was so numb that he physically couldn't move.

Marine saluting from beginning to end

The whole thing reminded me of a happy version of a funeral procession, as odd as that may sound. The outpouring of support was the same, but the expressions on the faces of those in attendance were smiles instead of tears. It was truly refreshing to be a part of something that gave me such a triumphant feeling of pride - we live in a world where doom and gloom are pervasive, especially in media headlines, so to see something that attracted such positive public attention was a wonderful change...and just what I needed on that particular weekend. I'm so grateful that I allowed another widow to talk me into participating in the rally, and I'm already looking forward to making the trip again next year. After all, why not? This is my story of life, love, and what's happened since I lost the love that made life worth living. There are few blessed people who are as willing to pay such tribute and respect to loved ones lost as those who take part in Operation Rolling Thunder. So for all these reasons, I'll continue, without hesitation, to participate in this meaningful Memorial Day event in lieu of BBQs and beach parties and all of the other "fun" activities often associated with this national holiday. Those frowning muscles of mine need a break every now and then, so if it gives me a reason to keep smiling, sign me up - happiness is a relative term, and I'll take it in whatever form it presents itself.  Happiness, if you ask me, is in the heart of the beholder.

Adam and I getting ready to take off - the yellow placard on the front of his bike reads "VIP - Gold Star Escort"