69. A Little Misty-Eyed

"The legacy of heroes is the memory of a great name and inheritance of a great example." 

~Benjamin Disraeli  

"Because of you, I can." 

~The American Widow Project

This Veteran's Day, I woke up with the taste of my husband's lips still fresh on mine. My mind was numb with disbelief and yet my body tingled from the intensity of the sensation. In my dream, Jon and I were finally reunited in either this life or the next - it doesn't matter. All that matters is that I held him in my arms for what felt like forever. It was glorious. Then, as if in slow motion, I wrapped my legs around his waist and savored in the closeness of his heartbeat against mine. When I finally pulled back and opened my eyes, there were tears streaming down his cheeks. I kissed him, almost desperately, three or four times, relief pouring over me at the sight of his beautiful face. Jon rarely shed actual tears - he'd get "misty-eyed" at particularly sad movies, but that was his limit. So this was the only second time I'd ever seen him cry. The first time was within a few weeks of his death, and it too was in a dream as real as this one.

And then I woke up - in a strange bed and in an unfamiliar city.

Luckily, I wasn't alone. My bed-mate, another military widow, lay there sleeping beside me. "Snoring" always sounds so negative, so let's just say she was "purring" gently. This past weekend, I was fortunate enough to share a life-changing experience with group of nine other broken-hearted widows. Seven of us are widows of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan; three are 9/11 widows. All of us came together to help to rebuild one of the many houses in New Orleans that was destroyed seven years ago during Hurricane Katrina. The owner has been without a place to call home since then, but, thanks to the St. Bernard Project, she and her family will soon return to a completely refurbished house where they can begin the process of building new memories.

Our little group listened carefully to various safety briefings and then got to work on taping, sawing, hammering, insulating, and prepping for drywall. As we worked diligently (and apparently performed the rare task of volunteering on a Sunday - Veterans Day), we listened to an eclectic mix of country music and '80s classic hits, laughed at silly stories of our husbands, and snapped pictures of the new friends we'd known for only a few hours but with whom we'll share a common bond for a lifetime. I also discovered I have a new love in my life - a love of power tools. I felt empowered as I sawed through sheets of plywood and two-by-fours and smiled to myself as I felt warmth of Jon's presence. As I washed the sweat and grime off me at the end of the day, I knew I was fortunate to be surrounded by such good, selfless people and I felt for the first time in a while like I'd actually accomplished something meaningful. Like all good things, the weekend came to an end too soon; Dorothy once said that there's no place like home, but I was definitely more than a little misty-eyed on my flight back to Ohio. I'd probably modify Dorothy's mantra to something more like "there's nothing quite like a group of women with a passion for the men they've lost and a commitment to the life they have left to live."

I always laugh when I tell people that Jon and I would never have kissed for the very first time if not for a little liquid courage. Every time I kissed him after that first night was a gift for which I will forever be grateful. Sometimes I wonder if the memories of those kisses will be enough to last me for an entire lifetime, but every now and then he comes back, albeit fleetingly in my dreams, to remind me of how it felt to be in heaven on earth. With the help of some lovely ladies, the raw reality of those feelings seems far less overwhelming, and I feel less alone. I can't imagine doing anything other than exactly what I did to commemorate this past Veterans Day. Throughout the entire weekend of shared fellowship and hard work, the tears of both joy and sadness flowed constantly among the ten members of our little group. It might not have been the stuff epic movies are made of, but if Jon had been there, I think he might have been willing to make an exception to his general no-tears rule.  At the very least, I can imagine him up there in Heaven nodding with approval...and maybe even getting a little misty-eyed too.