72. The Captain Jonathan D. Grassbaugh Memorial Clinic

"The angels are always near to those who are grieving, to whisper to them that their loved ones are safe in the hand of God."
~Eileen Elias Freeman

During a trip home from Washington, D.C. a few months ago, I was at Reagan Airport for an early morning flight and, as usual, I had packed too much stuff.  As I checked my heavy bag in at the ticket counter and then hoisted it up onto the screening belt, I was struck by a sudden sense of deja vu.  I've been here before, I thought.  This all seems incredibly familiar.  It was in that moment that I remembered lifting a similar bag up onto the very same conveyor belt over five years ago as I prepared to leave D.C. after Jon's funeral.  On that trip, I felt weighed down - both physically and emotionally.  Leaving my husband's body behind was hard enough; contemplating what on earth to do with the rest of my life seemed unimaginable.  A proverbial brick of fear and apprehension sat squarely on my chest.  My bag was heavy and full, only instead of clothes and shoes, it contained things like a wooden flag box, a folded American flag, and a plastic container full of all the birthday, Valentine's Day, and Christmas cards Jon had ever given me.

This time of year is full of moments like these. To say that the holidays are rough is an understatement, especially since Christmas day of 2006 was the last day I saw my husband alive. Every year I look for new things to do and new traditions to make the season a little more bearable. I realized as I braced myself for this year's festivities that this is the first year since I lost Jon that I've been truly alone on Christmas. In other words, I'm not in a relationship, I'm not reeling from the realization that the very thing I thought might bring me happiness was really just causing more pain, and I'm not on the brink of jumping into the dating world. It's just me. Damn...that's scary to write down on paper, much less think about all the implications inherent in such a stark reality.

Given the trepidation with which I face the blank slate of my future, I've recently taken a giant leap of faith and thrown myself into something I hope will bring me some fulfillment while also helping others in need. Over the past few years, I've undertaken several small projects in my husband's memory. My family and I award an annual scholarship to a Johns Hopkins University ROTC graduate and to a middle-school student in the town where Jon's mother is now the principal. We helped to push a bill through Congress to name the post office in Jon's hometown in his honor, and we donated funds to purchase a new optic telescope at the Phillips Exeter Academy Observatory where he worked as a student. Last year, we also funded a Public Interest Legal Foundation fellowship here at The Ohio State University. As I mentioned, however, these projects have all been relatively small in scope. The latest project I've proposed will remain faithful to the kind of public service endeavors I feel passionately about while breaking new and innovative philanthropic ground. In other words, this project will ultimately expand the scope of the Jonathan D. Grassbaugh Memorial Fund and take our community outreach efforts to a whole new level.

Best of all, this project will be all about the heroes who have given all and receive so little in return: our nation's military veterans. Although I've volunteered with surviving family member support groups and organizations over the past few years, the problems facing veterans also cause me much concern. In the state of Ohio in particular, there is currently a great need among low-income veterans for assistance with a wide range of civil issues ranging from landlord-tenant issues to disability claims. As a result, the Legal Aid Society of Columbus is overwhelmed by a caseload that requires specialized knowledge and expertise, and there is also no central location to which Ohio's 900,000 veterans can go for help.

This is where I come in. Since this community has already given me so much in preparing me for my future career, I want to do more to give back while I'm still here. I want to found a clinic to provide veterans with much-needed legal assistance. Although I'm yet to embark on any major projects of this size and scale, the time has come for me to take on an endeavor that, if successful will truly leave a lasting impression and perpetuate my husband's legacy of selfless service. It will take a lot of work, fundraising, and support, but if my recent meetings with members of the Columbus legal community are any indication, the support is there. There is simply a need for a passionate, emotionally-invested advocate with "boots on the ground," so to speak. And I think I can be that person.

My latest meeting with law school administrators and the Student Development office was incredibly encouraging; we've reached about a 70 percent solution in structuring the program to meet the needs of veterans while simultaneously offering students the opportunity to provide hands-on legal assistance to those most deserving of our help.  I can't imagine a better manifestation of the value Jon placed on both education and service, and I look forward to the coming weeks and months of continued progress.  I'm proud to report that we're now well on our way to creating the $500,000 endowment that will allow this initiative to exist into perpetuity.  In the words of a wise woman, "the older you get, the more you realize there's just one thing that matters - happiness."  I can't have the kind of happiness I long for and envisioned with Jon, so instead I do the things I think he'd be proud of, like founding this clinic.  I can't have Jon, but what I can do is provide others with the kind of help they need to live the kind of life Jon and I dreamed of sharing together.  

After I long day of meetings about the clinic this past week, I lit four holiday candles - one candle for grief, one for courage, one for our memories, and one for our love.   I sensed Jon's presence in the warmth of those four tiny flames.  It let me know I'm doing the right thing by pursing causes greater than myself.  The results of these efforts will, I hope, ultimately touch others and provide them with a little light in times of darkness.  I'm just one person, but with the right vision and the requisite support behind me, I will strive to be the kind of person the veteran community needs.  In the words of one of my favorite national non-profit organizations, "if not me, then who?"  The holiday season is indeed rough.  This is, however, the best Christmas gift - short of Jon - I could ever ask for.

My 4 holiday candles for my beloved husband, Jon. Cheers to the love we shared and for the beautiful life he gave me. It is truly an honor to call myself his wife ♥