86. Greed

"Three great forces rule the world:  stupidity, fear, and greed." 

~Albert Einstein

I realize this may come as a great shock, but greed is right up there on the list of qualities I absolutely despise in people.  Infidelity takes the cake on that list, but greed is a very close second.  I won't go into all the details of precisely why I came to this recent realization because it would implicate some people with whom I continue to have to interact.  However, let's just say that I'm a firm believer in the fact that money is root of most evil - maybe not ALL evil but certainly a considerable amount of it.

I have a really hard time understanding people who, for all intents and purposes, appear to be motivated almost entirely by money.  When people don't have enough of it, they're unhappy.  When they have enough of it, they want more of it.  If only I could make them see how inconsequential money is in comparison to the things that have no price tag.  I'm a realist - I understand that financial woes cause exasperating amounts of stress and hardship in the lives of those who find themselves facing such crises.  Maybe I just lack the ability to see things from other people's points of view; it's hard to understand the value of money when callousness, greed, and misery are the things I associate with it.  At the end of the day, I switch off when I hear someone say that money makes the world go round; instead, I adhere to the mantra promulgated by Brian Tracy:  "Successful people are always looking for opportunities to help others. Unsuccessful people are always asking, 'what's in it for me?'"

By now it's no secret:  The money I used to found the Grassbaugh Veterans Project represents the money I received from my husband's Servicemembers Group Life Insurance (SGLI).  Every Soldier in the military is required to pay a small portion of his/her monthly salary towards this account unless he/she specifically waives all coverage.  I remember the first time I had to fill out and sign the SGLI form as a Cadet - the thought of something happening to me seemed so absurd back then that I told my instructors I wanted to forego the coverage.  Only after some forceful words to the wise from those who knew better did I change my mind.

The mechanics of SGLI are no also secret - information about how it all works is readily available to anyone with access to the internet.  The insurance benefit itself totals $400,000.  There is also an additional death gratuity of $100,000 paid to the next of kin within a few days of the servicemember's death - this "gratuity" is intended to defray the immediate costs associated with the death of a loved one (funeral expenses and arrangements, travel, etc.).  As Jon's next of kin, I was the recipient of that money.  Half a million dollars was mind-boggling, especially when I'd just become the 22-year-old widow of the man with whom I thought I'd spend the rest of my life.  I would happily have given up every penny (and then some) to have him back.  That money has sat and stared me in the face for six long years.  Honestly, it's a welcome relief when I sign into my online account and see that half of it is no longer there.  Yes, people say that it’s like cutting away my safety net, but I don’t look at it that way.  Jon would have wanted me to do this. What's more, if the roles were reversed, he wouldn't have hesitated before doing something like this for me.

In case there was any doubt, half a million dollars is no substitute for a human life.  I'm not saying that I think the dollar amount should be more or less; all I'm saying is that the value of money and the value of people cannot be compared.  When all of this first happened, my father-in-law cautioned me against being open about the money I'd reluctantly acquired - he said people would take advantage of me (true) and that because I was overly trusting, I probably wouldn't recognize it until it was too late and the damage was done (also true).  I dismissed his concerns at the time, but he was right to be worried; after learning my lesson the hard way, I'm no longer quite so nonchalant or quite so naive.  I understand that I might not be able to make anyone who hasn't been through this experience understand why I have such distaste for monetary concerns, but like the saying goes, don't judge me until you've walked a mile in my shoes.  Make that 10 miles - at least.

When it comes to the future, I think I've had enough experience to say without hesitation that I'd rather accept a job I loved for half the salary of one I didn't like for twice the pay.  That should be pretty evident from my chosen career path in the JAG Corps - if I wanted to be a lawyer working for a fancy firm with a starting salary of at least six figures, this is entirely the wrong line of work.  I'm sure private firm lawyers must glean some satisfaction from what they do; anything less would be pure torture, considering how many billable hours they have to work on a weekly basis.  But it's not for me.  What good is tons of money if you spend all your time working for it and never have a free moment to stop and enjoy the so-called "better life" it's providing?

So, in short, I don't do any of this for the money - if I did, I wouldn't be true to myself.  I'd happily live in a cardboard box if I could live in it with Jon.  They say the best things in life are free, though I think that's the understatement of the century.  The best things in life are love and happiness.  Not only are they free, but they're also invaluable.  "Invaluable" means priceless, inestimable, and inappreciable.  Love is undoubtedly all three of these things.  Money may be the root of most evil, but love is the root of all happiness in this world.

85. The Pesky Cynic

"A cynic is [someone] who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing."
~Oscar Wilde

It probably comes as no surprise that after six years, a lot has changed.  Sometimes when I look back at pictures and videos of my former life, that's exactly what it feels like - like someone else's life.  I recognize myself and I can picture Jon's face, but the simplicity of my pre-April 7, 2007 existence is almost incomprehensible when I compare it to the storms I've weathered over the past six years.  The learning curve has been steep, and every life lesson has come at a heavy price, not to mention many mistakes on my part.  If only for that reason, I often wish I'd started writing this blog sooner.  Maybe then I could have avoided stumbling down a few of those rabbit holes along the way.  I've learned from those misguided detours, to be sure, but I doubt they'll ever cease to grate on my conscience.  Much in the same way I view my pre-2007 existence, the person who made all those mistakes is unfamiliar enough to feel like a perfect stranger to me.  And yet...it was me.  How can that be?  All I can say is that I'm counting on the next decade being a little better than this last one; otherwise I'll be emotionally spent before I hit 40. 

The good news is that I think I'm finally open to dating again, but I realize I may need to have more realistic expectations.  I'm not 18 anymore, and neither are any of the guys I might date.  I have emotional baggage,  they have baggage (though hopefully nothing quite as daunting as mine).  Jon was incredibly rare in this regard - he was 21 when we met and, miraculously, completely baggage-free.  There were no skeletons in his closet or crazy ex-girlfriends to avoid.  Guess he spoiled me for life in that way.  Way to ruin it for me, Jon, ha.

On the other hand, the dating world is a pretty scary place, and sometimes I think, why bother?  It's not like I'm ever going to find anyone who makes me feel that way again.  Once in a lifetime means once in a lifetime.  Might as well quit while I'm ahead!  But that's the jaded cynic in me talking.  If I've learned anything recently, it's that people still have the ability to surprise me, whether for better or worse.  Being a realist does not, by definition, require a healthy helping of cynicism.  It requires having some perspective on life, and of that I have plenty.  For months, I've been saying that nothing surprises me anymore, but I guess that's not really true.  The incredible outpouring of community support for the Veterans Project, for example, touched and humbled me beyond words.  I was almost embarrassed by all the complimentary things people said about me and the future potential of the program.  It was truly inspiring to witness so many people from different walks of life come together to recognize the importance of providing free legal services to our nation's heroes.  It gives me hope, and sometimes a little hope is what it takes to quash that pesky cynic.

So I'm going to continue to rely on those little glimmers of hope, and on the wonderful friends and family who have gotten me this far.  Without their love, support, and refusal to give up on me, even during the darkest of times, there would be no Veterans Project and no future career for me as an Army lawyer.  Goodbye, cynic - hello, life!  And, perhaps, hello, dating world.  You are indeed a scary place...but I'm not one to shy away from a challenge.  Dating doesn't have to mean I'm on the hunt for another husband - it just means dating, as in "let's give it a shot and see what happens."  Why not, right?  Honestly, what more do I have to lose?  Life, as I know all too well, is simply too short for regrets.

84. Hero Stuff

"It really sinks in, you know, when I see it in stone.
'Cause you went away.
How dare you.
I miss you.
They say I'll be okay.
But I'm not going to ever get over you."
~Miranda Lambert, "Over You"

I think I've finally stopped trying to bargain with God.  For much of this past year, I figured if I just did all the right things and experienced enough of the raw, unforgiving pain of grief, I could somehow reverse what happened six years ago.  It probably sounds pretty silly, but these are the kind of tricks your mind plays on itself when backed into an impossible corner.  That corner is, of course, the one I've found myself in since I realized that death is the one thing in this world I can't change.  As humans, we can solve financial crises and find solutions to relationship issues, but there is no "fix" for death.  To say that it's as permanent as anything could ever be is the understatement of the century.

As I stared at my husband's headstone this past weekend, I was reminded of what all of this means.  He's not coming back, and no magic number of tears will change that.  That may sound ridiculous - I've had six long years to figure it out - but sometimes when we get caught up in the details, we miss the bottom line.  For days before the anniversary this year, I rode the euphoric high associated with the launch of the veterans project, only to experience a crash course in sobering reality as I traced the letters of his name on the marble headstone and realized that none of this would be happening in the first place if he hadn't died.  If he hadn't died, I'd probably be a nice, normal, happily married woman right now - maybe there would even be a kid or two in the picture and a little house, complete with white picket fence.  If he hadn't died, I wouldn't have a reason to continue to visit what's been referred to by some as the saddest acre in America (and yet, no matter how many times I go, I still can't seem to stop wishing I were just one of the thousands of tourists with no personal connection to the cemetery whatsoever).  Because Jon died, I'm not just a tourist.  When I maneuver my way through the crowds of people (armed with flowers and sunglasses), I do it with a very specific purpose...and with unspeakable sadness. Section 60 is truly a beautiful place, and Jon is buried among friends and heroes.  However, as humbling and touching as all the hero stuff is, I'd gladly give it all up in a second just to hold him one last time.

So cheers to you, baby.  On this April 7th, 2013, I pay tribute to person you were and the person you've made me.  You're my hero for reasons beyond those we traditionally associate with heroes.  You taught me to laugh, to live, and to love fully and completely without restraint.  You taught me that serving others is indescribably more rewarding than catering to our own personal needs.  And you taught me that there are really, really good people out there - you just have to look really, really hard for them.  I'm just lucky I found one of them in you.  Thank you for the honor of being your wife.  The fact that people continue to reach out to let me know that they served with you or knew you in some capacity and admired you for the person you were lets me know I'm not alone in appreciating your rarity.  Someone recently referred to me as a "gem," but I think that title belongs to you.   Thank you for being the definition of all that is good in this world...and for all the hero stuff that made you "my Jon."  I'll be back to the land of heroes to visit you again soon.

83. Gratitude

"A good life is when you assume nothing, do more, smile often, dream big, laugh a lot, and realize how blessed you are for what you have."
~Unknown

April 5th, 2013 marked the launch of the Captain Jonathan D. Grassbaugh Veteran's Project at the Moritz College of Law. Expressing my gratitude for the support of the countless people who helped to make this dream a reality does not seem possible - I am indebted to my family, my friends, the law school faculty, and the wonderful community of which I am proud to be a part. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I cannot wait to witness students help change the lives of those who risk all for our freedom.  

At what is usually an incredibly difficult time of year for me, I feel remarkable peace and happiness.  Jon was never one to brag or seek praise, but I have to think he'd be "fair chuffed," as we say in Scotland, at all the attention he's attracted recently.  I think it's important to point out that it was an absolutely beautiful day for the event yesterday, and I have to believe that was Jon's doing.  He's smiling down on us from heaven, of that I have no doubt.  And for that, I am most grateful.

Keynote Speech – April 5th, 2013 

My husband once told me that, despite the challenges life, law school, and the future might bring, at the end of the day all that mattered was that we had each other. He told me that I could smile with that knowledge, and with the knowledge that he would love me through the best of the best times and the worst of the worst.

He was standing at a payphone in Iraq when he uttered these words. Just a few months later, the worst of the worst times would begin for us. Well, not for us. But, rather, for me. Because, you see, on April 7th, 2007, the man I committed with all my heart and soul to spend the rest of my life with was killed in action serving our great country. He was doing what he loved and what all good leaders do when his truck was hit by a massive Improvised Explosive Device. A few short weeks earlier, he’d sent me a Valentine’s Day card describing how much he looked forward to growing old together and enjoying all life has to offer for many years into the future. This dream, however, was not to be. He was twenty-five years old when he died.

The bomb that ended my husband’s life came very close to shattering and completely destroying mine. I was lost and without a purpose for a very long time. Although I threw myself into work and memorial projects in my husband’s memory, nothing could ease the sadness I felt every time I picked up the phone, hoping to hear Jon’s voice, and realizing for the millionth time that he would not – could not – be there. Nothing seemed to lift the emotional weight that crushed my will to keep going whenever I contemplated living ten, twenty, perhaps even seventy more years without the one person I always said I couldn’t live without. I spent many nights in a state of absolute panic, asking why over and over again, despite knowing that no answer would ever be good enough.

For me, this project represents my attempt to turn my worst nightmare into a positive good. I have come so far emotionally, but I know I can still do so much more physically for those who deserve it most. Within a few months of Jon’s death, I became involved with other widows and family support groups, but I was missing the other side of the coin, the side that encompassed my husband’s military experience and, now, my own. That, of course, is the experience of the veteran. As I’ve realized recently, not everyone understands exactly what constitutes a veteran or can appreciate the kind of unique legal issues they often face after returning home from what might be their first, second, or even fifth deployment. A veteran is anyone who has served overseas during a time of war. It is not, necessarily, the forty-five-year-old Colonel who retires with full benefits after twenty years. Instead, it might very well be the Staff Sergeant who served two tours in Iraq, one in Afghanistan, and then separates from the Army after seven years of service with child support payments, debt issues, and severe post-traumatic stress disorder. This project is my attempt to spare those veterans who have already paid a heavy price for our freedom by addressing their issues earlier in the process at a time when we can still prevent the worst of the worst from befalling our nation’s heroes.

You know, the truth is that I really wish I didn’t have a reason to be standing up here before you today. I wish I didn’t have a reason to be talking about my husband and what he stood for…in the past tense. People say that everything happens for a reason, though that’s a mantra I’ve struggled with constantly over the past six years. I’ve been unable to fathom what reason there could possibly be for becoming a widow at the age of 22. At that age, many people haven’t yet been lucky enough to experience the kind of love that takes your breath away, much less experience it fleetingly…and then lose it. I certainly had absolutely no idea of what to do when two uniformed officers showed up at my door and told me that the man I’d fallen in love with at the age of 18 would not be coming home alive. Nor did I have any idea of what to do when they handed me a check for several hundred thousand dollars – a check that essentially represented my husband’s way of making sure that I’d be taken care of if our worst nightmare should ever become a reality. But now I do know what to do. And perhaps the reason for everything is becoming a little more clear. This work and this project mean more to me than any material thing that money could ever buy. This is my husband’s legacy and it’s one that will go on long after I’m gone too. It means that my other very worst fear will not come true – that being that, in time, he’ll be forgotten.

Jon once paid me what I think is the ultimate compliment someone can ever pay another person in this world. He told me that I was the best thing that ever happened to him. You know, it’s pretty easy to be a good person and feel happy when everything is good and everything is easy. But being able to look back on those good times and say you feel better about the person you are now because of what you’ve learned about yourself from the bad times – now that is true happiness. The reality is that he made me better. And he still does. I’m a better friend, a better daughter, a better Soldier, and a better person because of what he was able to do in what most people require a lifetime to achieve. President Abraham Lincoln once said that it’s not the years in a life – it’s the life in the years. When I visit Jon at Arlington National Cemetery this weekend on the sixth anniversary of his death, that’s exactly what I plan to tell him. I’ll tell him it’s taken me six years to be able to say it out loud, but I think I’ve finally been able to reach a point where I can live the kind of life he’d be proud of in however many years I have to live it.

I’m going to be a little selfish here for a moment and say I honestly do hope, at some point, that I find love like that again. I think everyone deserves to be with someone who would happily move heaven and earth just to see them smile. I don’t know that it will ever happen – Jon set the bar awfully high – but what I’ve learned is that he’s still rooting for me every step of the way, even though he’s not here to tell me so himself. I won’t lie. It’s hard to be the one who’s left behind. I wake up many days and think “Oh my God, this is not my life…” But this is my life, and I am still here. And while I’m still here, I’ve made it my task to ensure that I try to make the kind of difference in the lives of others that Jon made in mine. As I sat down to write this speech, I realized that despite all the blog entries I’ve composed over this past year, all the articles I’ve written about our story, and the countless times I’ve relayed to complete strangers just how amazing he was, I really didn’t know what to say. How do you do justice in words to a life that speaks for itself?

Perhaps, instead, I will end with Jon’s own words in an attempt to illustrate the kind of love he had for me and the selflessness he demonstrated in how he lived his life. In preparing for our wedding ceremony, Jon and I, at the behest of our minister, each filled out a questionnaire about our relationship and our thoughts on love. One of the questions was “where is your sacred spot, a place you feel most at peace, most connected, or most inspired?” In typical future lawyer-like fashion, my answer to this question was very long, very detailed, and very rational in structure. Jon’s answer, on the other hand, was very short and simple, but spoke volumes. His answer was “with my wife.” The final question was “what is the motto you live by?” I, thinking ahead to all the things I looked forward to enjoying with Jon in the future, said “carpe diem – seize the day.” Jon, as always, focused on the bigger picture. His answer was “non sibi” – which is Latin for “not for oneself.” This Veterans Project is the very epitome of that philosophy and embodies the meaning of his sacrifice more than any words I can offer here today. To say that I am thankful to each and every one of you for being here understates my immense gratitude. Despite being over half way toward my goal of becoming a lawyer, I do not have the words to express how humbled I feel in seeing this project come to fruition. Thank you, and to my husband, my angel – may you rest in peace until we meet again. I love you - always and forever.

Link to the footage from yesterday's launch:

http://moritzlaw.osu.edu/grassbaugh/

Link to ABC's video coverage of the event:

http://abc6onyourside.com/shared/news/features/featured/stories/wsyx_new-program-help-vets-returning-after-combat-861.shtml