Grief - Rough Draft

This is the rough, very rough draft of one of the chapters I have started on for my first book effort.  I have decided that I am going to write about the year of firsts that follow the death of a girl's mother.  It would not be complete without a chapter on grief.  While it was very cathartic to write the chapter, on this day, and at this time...it doesn't make any of this whole grief thing easier.


“GRIEF is the last act of love we can give to those we loved.
Where there is deep GRIEF, there is deep love.”

    Today, I was the last to leave.  The last to leave as a man from my childhood was carefully placed into his grave.  In my adult life, I have learned from one of the bad-ass women in my life that someone should always be there to the very end.  She taught me this as we stood next to the open grave of a former colleague's 5-year-old son in the unforgiving bitter Missouri winter.  Today, I stood there while the downpour of rain had turned to a mist.  This humble man that loved the simple things in life.  This man with the brightest smile with a boundless heart.  This man who was the natural father … birth father to four, adoptive father to one, and surrogate father to some fifty plus foster children.  This man that when asked by his oldest son for advice about adopting his now son said, “Do what makes you happy.  Follow your heart.”  This man who worked and provided for his family and still found time to volunteer his talents through so many places in our community.  This man who supported his wife in establishing a small nonprofit that started in his basement out of an old deep freezer full of diapers for it to become a foundation of support for pregnant women and their babies.  This man whose favorite hymn was “Silent Night.”   The man asked me what my relation to this man was.  I paused and said, “One of his sons is my best friend and has my heart.”  The bright red urn with the Saint Louis Cardinals logo on it was completely covered when I asked if it would be okay if I could place the wreath on the grave when he was done.  Outside giving both my parent’s eulogies, being able to do this was one of my greatest honors.
Grief is a strange beast.  We all grieve so very differently because we are all human and different.  I do believe that there are a number of commonalities that we all feel though.  There is the numbness, shock, denial, anger but how it is displayed is unique to the individual.  In conversations with my closest male friends, I asked the question, “Why do men grieve so differently than women?”  My dear friend Huey, who I chose because he doesn’t know the man that has my heart, responded to the question simply with, “As in showing no emotion?”
“That but also pushing the people away that love you the most.  Not family but like your girlfriend?”
He explained to me that it was “one of those things about not showing weakness and keeping emotions inside and dealing with it by ourselves.”  That struck a hard chord with me because, since his father’s death, I had been asked, between I am sorries, to give this man that has my heart space.  If you have not read any of my previous writings or do not know me personally, you will not understand that it is not in my nature to just give someone space.  I have learned since Momo’s leaving that I need to communicate what I need from the people I hold closest and to ask them to clarify their needs if I do not understand.  To most, when someone says to give them “space” it should be a simple concept.  I am not most.  I asked that “space” be defined so that I do not violate it and was told, “alone.”  While it should not have been a surprise to me, it was.  When Momo left, he did not understand my grief.  My inability to communicate what I needed and our inability to communicate a lot of things.  I had before Momo left, pushed him to visit his dad in the nursing home he had been in for about ten months following a stroke.  I told him that he would regret it when he was gone.  After Momo left, I was jealous that, while his dad was no longer the dad that had raised him, he was still here.  (I have to put the disclaimer here that I am not angry with him.  I am proud of him and the man that he is because he actually told me what he needed from me.)
My conversation with Huey continued with me asking for clarification, “Is it because society establishes that the weaker sex shows emotion and the stronger does not?”
“Most likely and the male is supposed to be stronger all around, emotionally and physically.”
My observation at this point was that “I guess then, in some circumstances, I probably come off as a cold bitch then.”
This is where my friend shows his wisdom and it starts to click with all the quotes I am reading and writing down from my Google image search.  “In all reality, everyone handles emotion differently, (it) just depends on who you are and how you were raised.”
“I guess, because I am female and also pretty much one of those women that have said fuck you to society’s stereotyping that because you have a penis you have to be this way and because you have a vagina you have to be this way.  I don’t understand pushing away and shutting out the person that does not have to unconditionally love you but does help you.”  “I think (it) could also be family size and what has happened in your life.  (My family) was just my parents, me and my sister.  We were considered overly connected because of my pediatric cancer and (having) lived in another country during an Islamic revolt can do that to a family.”
“Very good points there.”  He validated me.  This, to me, meant that I was onto something or maybe coming to an understanding.  
I explained the situation to Huey and that “I do but don’t understand.  It hurts on so many levels.  I thought (that) we had gotten to place where he knew I was there no matter what.”  Again, validated by Huey that he was understanding and knew what I meant.  I continued, “I guess my heart and mind think that if you tell someone that you (see) yourself spending your life together that you don’t push (them) away.  Tell them what you need or don’t need or even how to comfort them but not exclude them.”  It was at this time I felt it was important to let him know that he was helping me write a chapter in my book and he knew it.
“Yeah, just say, I’m going to deal with this, but need you by me, I may/will be short and I apologize now when I’m a dick.”  This for me also validated the multiple I’m sorries.
As I was reading the quotes about grief, there was a number that stood out to me.  Dr. Brene Brown is one of my go to bad ass women (that I have never met but hope to someday) for quotes.  Again, if you have not read any of my other blog entries or do not know me personally, it is all about the right quote at the right time from the right person who notices that you need something to give you that extra boost to achieve something great.  Dr. Brown’s quote from her book Rising Strong helped me understand where this man I love is coming from.  “We run from grief because loss scares us.  Yet our hearts reach toward grief because the broken parts want to mend.”  The second statement is my broken heart’s hope that as we both heal from the incredible loss of a parent that was also our best friend, that our hearts can help each other mend.  The first part statement becomes clearer as I find more words of wisdom.
There was no credit given for this gem, “Grief is love’s unwillingness to let go.”  Thursday night after being told “space” and “alone,” I laid in my bed and sobbed because I didn’t have either of my best friends to really talk to.  Momo had left and gone to heaven and well, the other is why we are here.  My eighteen-year-old son asked if I was okay and I told him the stoic mother’s response while sobbing, “Yes, I am okay.”  I then decided that I needed to go somewhere to just cry.  I left my phone at home (an unheard of things these days) and told my son, I will be back, I promise.  I found my way to the little church on the hill that I attend and had attended with Momo.  I sat in her chair with the beautiful knitted blanket that my pastor had done that I had won at the previous year’s trivia night..plus a box of kleenex.  The sun was setting and streams of light were coming through the stained glass window.  I don’t want to let go of my Momo.  I know that Tom (yes, not his real name) doesn’t want to let go of his father, a man that he shares his birthday with.  In the early days of my journey of this first year, Tom has had to open my car door and gently take my hand and get me into my house.  I sat in her chair and sobbed, asked God why, told him that I wanted my Momo back, that I didn’t want Tom to be feeling the same type of loss, pain, and grief that I have been.  I knew then and do know now as I am writing this, that all those are not possible.  I do trust that God has both my Momo and Tom’s father in better places.  It doesn’t make me feel the pain any less.
    As feeling human beings, we are always in search of love but, love has a price.  I am not talking love as in what you see in the movies, that is scripted.  I am talking that love that is unconditional and accepting of your greatest strengths and weaknesses or faults.  That love that knows no matter what, no matter what … distance, which has nothing to do with miles...time, which has nothing to do with a clock or calendar...word, spoken and unspoken...love.  David Malham said, “Grief, after all, is the price we pay for love.”  There was a time in my life when I never thought I would feel any emotions again.  I was numb to so much in my life.  That numbness robbed my children of the mother I could have been.  The mother that I had.  It has been in the past few years that the numbness has left.  I do know that I would rather feel that love that brings us to grief than to not feel at all.  That love that is a strong, rough hand that gently helps me out of my car or pulls me into him in the middle of the night.  That love that I want to give back.
    I land into two similar but very different quotes that bring some things into clearer vision.  The first from Cathy Lamb speaks volumes without discussion and backs up my need to have Tom beside me when Momo left and my need (which yes, I know if my need not his) to be beside him during this time.  “But grief is a walk alone.  Others can be there, and listen.  But you will walk alone down your own path, at your own pace, with your sheared-off pain, your raw wounds, your denial, anger, and bitter loss.  You’ll come to your own peace, hopefully...but it will be on your own, in your time.”  Tom is beginning this walk that, as of this past Sunday, I have been on for exactly six months.  I am still angry, bitter, pained, and raw...exposed.  I did not grieve when my father left in 2008.  I was a self-professed workaholic, with two growing boys - one in high school and one in elementary school, married and numb.  With Momo leaving, I have made a point of taking my time.  I want to think that we are all on the same path but the grief simply doesn’t allow us to see the others that are there with us, whether they are grieving themselves for someone else or being there for us, we simply can’t see them.
    Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and John Kessler stated, “The reality is that you will grieve forever.  You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it.  You will heal and rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered.  You will be whole again but, you will never be the same.  Nor should you be the same, nor would you want to.”  I know that I am not the same person I was before my father left.  I am not the same person that I was before Momo left.   I agree with Ross and Kessler that we do not want to be the same people we were before the loss of a loved one because that would, in my heart and mind, mean that person was not loved by you and you were not loved by them.  On the verge of my fiftieth birthday, I can see the changes in me because of Momo leaving.  I find myself grieving.  I let my children see me cry.  I am honest with my students when it is not a good day and they have seen me cry.  There are things that I used to do with Momo that I have tried but simply can’t do right now.  Crochet is the biggest.  I will, until I leave on my journey, grieve the leaving of my parents.  They were my rocks, my constant champions, willing to let me make my mistakes (and yes, that would be an entirely different book) but there when I needed them and will cry when I miss them and don’t have one of them to talk to.  I am not sure that I agree with them that I will be whole again, but that is part of this journey of Finding Miss Marjorie.  To a degree, in the past six months, I have learned to live with my broken heart.  I am rebuilding this life of mine.  I am, because of my grief, realizing that the (yes, last one) quote by Buddha that “the trouble is, you think you have time.”  Well, we do not have infinite time.  It was twenty days from the time they told us that my father had brain cancer and placed him on hospice when he left. Those are twenty days of my life that marked me, changed me, and is time with my father that I am so blessed to have had.  It was literally a year to the day that I and my youngest son moved in with Momo that she left without notice.  I feel guilty that I didn’t move in with her when I divorced.  That would have given me two more years to share our lives.  I feel guilty that I was too proud and had to prove to myself that I didn’t need a man and could stand on my own two feet.  I feel guilty, even though Momo gave me permission to stay over at Tom’s on Friday before she left, that I wasn’t there for some twelve hours at the tail end of her life.  Those are twelve hours that I can never get back.  Those are two years that I can never get back.  I have started making decisions about when I can retire from teaching and start on my other earthbound journey, whatever that may be.  Prior to his father’s death, Tom was slowing me down and getting me to separate home and school.  To come home, sit down and breathe.
    Going back to the original start, whether we are male or female, we are human, individuals, we are all different.  We process grief in our own way.  I will not go so far as to say that there is no wrong way to process grief because there are wrong ways.  Those wrong ways are the ways that result in more loss and more grief.  I have proved to myself that I can live with a completely shattered and broken heart.  Each day a sliver of my heart goes back in place.  Sometimes it is because I see my youngest son being himself.  Sometimes it is because I find something of Momo’s that reminds me of her.  Sometimes it is that strong, rough hand that gently takes mine and helps me keep moving.

Faith That In The End...

One of my bad-ass angels on this earth posted on Facebook 10 things that we need to keep in mind about the current state of our government in the United States.  It got me thinking, as a history teacher - which some of you may not know is what I started out to be but God obviously had a different plan for me so I have gone with it for 26 years -  all the advice give here is just in language that we understand today.  If you read it - not just gloss over it - isn't this what we as an undivided nation was founded on?  We have to believe in our founding father's vision of what they were creating an protecting the citizens of the UNITED States of America from.  We are a tangible society that relies on how quickly we get information which creates sensory overload, which in return we do not think rationally or clearly and we let our emotions get the best of us.  When we stop thinking (which is a multi-step process and takes time) the way thinking should be, we make decisions and statements that later (which can be right after or days, months, years later) we regret.  When the current administration was elected and assumed office, I tell my students that I will not talk politics but I will talk government, I stated "we will just have to see how the system of checks and balances works."
As a UNITED nation, we can not forget that we were colonized because people were seeking refuge from religious persecution.  The revolution was started against a tyrannical monarchy with a Declaration of Independence.  Our government was established through a Constitution with a preamble that starts with "WE THE PEOPLE IN ORDER TO FORM A MORE PERFECT UNION."  We have been a DIVIDED UNION on more than one occasion through the Civil War, the Red Scare, the Vietnam War, and the Civil Rights Movement (which continues today because the DREAM has not really been achieved).  For the most part, we have weathered the storms of division and (in my the glass is half full rationale) have come out once again a UNITED nation of diverse people that as Lady Liberty says "With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”"  

It is with that, I have to have faith that IN GOD WE TRUST, the wisdom that our founding fathers in creation of a REPRESENTATIVE government, that the system of  CHECKS AND BALANCES (that we as a nation have not seen work to it's fullest capacity since the FDR administration) works, and that WE as a nation do not allow violence to weaken us.  That we do not allow ourselves to forget that through a BILL OF RIGHTS, we have basic freedoms that should be respected and utilized responsibly.  I have FAITH in the vision that GOD gave in our founding fathers, in those that have risen to HIS call to fight whatever form the beast takes to shake this once GREAT nation.  I agree with the Jeff Daniels Newsroom monologue from 2014 (https://youtu.be/RyzDRc34l2g).

If this is the first time you are reading anything on this blog, at this point I am sure that you are questioning  my credibility.  How I became to want to teach history was through my parents.  Both were US Air Force veterans, of which my father served during the Korean War and turned 18 in Korea.  I know what it means to live outside the United States and be afraid to be an American.  I lived in Iran during the 6th grade during the fall of the US backed Shah.  I have connected with a number of our GWOT Veterans, families, and Gold Star families.  I have listened to them, watched them, cheered them, and cried with them as they buried their own.

I have to have FAITH in GOD that HE will see our nation through this dark storm and troubled seas.  That in the end, we will be UNITED UNDER ONE GOD (Yaweh or Allah-depending on your language) and the forces that divide us will see justice whether at the hands of the very system that they try to manipulate or higher yet, GOD.  It is because of that faith in GOD that I can wake each day, hear of the injustices, and believe that this too shall pass.  My prayer is that when this does pass, that WE can rise together as a nation that embodies what we were founded on and that the words on Lady Liberty are not just words but action.  That WE embrace all that makes us the most diverse of all nations.  That WE can co-exist no matter our religion, our skin color, our sexual orientation, our gender, our socio-economic status, our level of education - to be the UNITED States of America.  

Tailspin of Mammoth Proportion...

Two months ago, my world went into a total tailspin.  Not just the kind of tailspin that a person takes and then gets up, dusts themselves off, and moves forward.  It took a tailspin of the NASCAR variety that makes the national news...you know the kind that news just keeps replaying the impact during the story 5 or 6 times and you as the viewer do not even hear what the news anchor is saying while repeating to yourself, "Is this really happening?"

Two months ago, my seventy three year old mother passed away.  It was not expected by any means.  MoMo, as we had lovingly come to call her and a name that my students will tell you will be followed by some form of a story from me, had not been feeling well for a couple of days but we both chalked it up to being October and cold/flu season.  Saturday evening, MoMo complained that her feet were like ice and that she was so cold. She went to bed at 8:30 that night but that was not uncommon.  What was uncommon was that she actually went to bed because she would normally lay in bed and read for a couple hours.  The next morning, she did not go to church with me but when I returned home, MoMo was very proud that she had taken a shower and felt a little bit better.  I spend my afternoon working in the yard.  I had noticed, a number of times, that there was a faint yellow butterfly just flitting around the yard but never coming close to me.  I went into the house about four and MoMo was settling into her chair.  I could tell that whatever was going on with her, she was weak.  I sat down to watch one of the shows that she had on the DVR with her.  For the next hour, she would comment about how cold she was while I just sat there and sweating.  It wasn't an out of character warm day in October for Missouri nor what it an out of character cold day.  About five, I noticed that she was sleeping, paused the program, and went into the kitchen to make dinner.  My boyfriend came over to help me change a belt on the used John Deere riding lawn mower that she just purchased for me and that I just glowed over.  The butterfly was still just flitting around.  We had gone in about five till six and spoken with her.  She said something and I just told her, "Old woman, you don't feel well.  Just take a nap."  MoMo laughed at me.  She totally laughed at me.  We went back out and at one point, the little yellow butterfly came over to us and circled around us and then flew off to the next destination.  At 6:25 pm, the tailspin began with the simple pull of a chain that turned on a light in our living room.  My seventeen year old son realized before I did that MoMo had not just taken a nap, but had taken an eternal nap.  Fully reclined with her iPad on her stomach, there was no sign of a struggle, MoMo's lips had no color to them and were the ashen grey.  I tried to "wake" her and ran to a wall that had not had a phone hanging on it for some 30 years to call 911.  

While her death certificate reads the time her death was called in Room 15 of the local emergency room of 7:05 pm,  I can tell you that the time she left this world was probably closer to 6:00 pm.  

I am a firm believer in signs.  That yellow butterfly was a sign.  It spend the afternoon just hanging around the back yard until her soul was ready for the journey she was to take. The yellow butterfly is a symbol of hope and guidance.  My boyfriend is a childhood friend, one that grew up two houses down from me.  We reconnected in May and had been pretty much inseparable since late June.  MoMo had often commented on how happy she was that he and I are together and that she knew how loved and protected I was with him.  On this day, that little yellow butterfly was what early Christians believed to be a symbol of the soul and even more so that in the countries of Scotland and Ireland means that the departed soul is at peace.  I do believe that MoMo is at peace.  I do believe that she knew she could go and that my sister and I are in good hands.  

The following day, October 24 was my parent's fifty-first wedding anniversary.  Since my father's passing in 2008, they were together in the same place.  That made it all the more sweeter for her.  

Two weeks later, as I had done for my father, I spoke at her Celebration of Life and today, two months after, I share.  

"EIGHT YEARS AND 5 WEEKS AGO, I STOOD HERE AND GOD BLESSED ME WITH THE WORDS TO CELEBRATE THE LIFE OF MY FATHER.  STANDING HERE THEN AND NOW, I DID NOT FATHOM THAT I WOULD BE HERE SO SOON FOR MY MOTHER, MOMO.  I HAVE ASKED THAT GOD BLESS ME WITH THE WORDS AGAIN TO CELEBRATE HER LIFE.  

TWO WEEKS LATER, I HAVE COME THROUGH SOME PORTION OF ALL THE 5 STAGES OF GRIEF BUT NOT IN THE ORDER THEY SAY YOU GO THROUGH THEM. WHAT I COME BACK TO EVERY TIME IS “I HAVE RUN THE RACE.  I HAVE FOUGHT THE GOOD FIGHT.  I HAVE FAITH AND IT IS OKAY FOR ME TO GO HOME.”  

TWO WEEKS AGO, MY SISTER AND I LOST MORE THAN JUST OUR MOTHER.  WE LOST OUR ROCK, OUR BEST FRIEND, OUR BIGGEST CHAMPION AND I DO TRULY BELIEVE THAT SHE WAS TO SPEND HER 51ST WEDDING ANNIVERSARY WITH OUR DAD IN HEAVEN THE NEXT DAY.  

WHEN PEOPLE ASK HOW OLD SHE WAS AND I SAY “73,” THEY LOOKED SHOCKED AND SAY THAT IS YOUNG.  YEAH, IT IS BUT HER LEASE HERE WAS DONE AND GOD HAD AND HAS A BIGGER PLAN.  

AS I HAVE SIFTED THROUGH THE PICTURES OF NOT JUST MY LIFE BUT, MY MOTHER’S AND PREVIOUS GENERATIONS….MY MOTHER’S SMILE STOOD OUT TO ME DURING SO MANY DIFFERENT STAGES OF HER LIFE...I QUICKLY CONNECTED THAT AS THE SAME SMILE I SEE ON MY SISTER.

A LOT OF PEOPLE HAVE SAID THAT OUR MOTHER WAS A WOMAN WITH A KIND, GIVING, GODLY HEART...I DON’T DISAGREE BECAUSE I KNOW THAT MY GIFTS AND TALENTS FOR SERVICE TO OTHERS IS FROM MY MOTHER.  I CAN TELL YOU THAT THE LAST BABY BLANKET SHE MADE WAS COMPLETED ON OCTOBER 16TH SO THAT IT COULD BE GIVEN TO RACHEL AND ELIZABETH ON THE 18TH.  SHE ACCEPTED PEOPLE FOR WHO THEY WERE AND TAUGHT US THAT GOD DID NOT PUT ANY OF US ON THIS PLANET TO JUDGE THE OTHER SIMPLY BECAUSE WE ALL MEET THE SAME MAKER.

THE ONE GLARING CHARACTER TRAIT THAT BOTH MY SISTER AND I HAVE BEEN GIVEN BY OUR MOTHER IS, WHILE WE EACH APPROACH IT DIFFERENTLY, THE ABILITY TO BE “MARTOLD.”  IF YOU WERE TO ATTEMPT TO FIND THIS DICTIONARY, YOU WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO.  THIS IS DEFINED BY THE ABILITY TO JUST TELL SOMEONE EXACTLY LIKE IT IS.  MY SISTER’S APPROACH IS TO DO THIS WITH A RAISED RIGHT EYEBROW, PULLING HER HAIR BACK WITH HER CHEATERS AND DRAWING OUT THE WORD, “NOW …..”  THE PAST TWO WEEKS, THIS HAS BEEN A BLESSING BECAUSE IN MANY SITUATIONS THAT HAVE HAPPENED THAT FOLLOW THE PASSING OF A PARENT, I AM NOT TOO SURE THAT MY APPROACH TO THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN TOO EFFECTIVE.  MY APPROACH IS TO JUST THROW IT OUT THERE, TYPICALLY WITHOUT A FILTER, AND DEPENDING ON THE LOCATION IT JUST MIGHT INCLUDE THE “F” WORD.

MY MOTHER LOVED HER FAMILY UNCONDITIONALLY...THIS WAS MOST EVIDENT WITH HER GRANDCHILDREN.  SHE WOULD DEFEND MY SONS AND BEG ME TO SPARE THE SORORITY PADDLE WHICH, EXCEPT FOR 2 OCCASIONS - 1 TIME EACH CHILD, I DID AT HER REQUEST.  WITH MY NEPHEW SPENCER, THE MOMENT THAT STANDS OUT IS WHEN HE STAYED THE NIGHT A YEAR AGO WITH US AND HE SAT ON HER LAP WHILE THEY READ A STORY.  

MY MOTHER WAS KNOWN FOR HER DEVOTION TO THIS CHURCH, THIS SANCTUARY, THIS CONGREGATION …. IT WAS  MY MOTHER’S ROCK….THAT HAS BEEN OUR BLESSING ALSO.  

GOD BLESSED ME WITH THE OPPORTUNITY A YEAR AGO TO MOVE MYSELF AND MY YOUNGEST SON INTO THE LITTLE BRICK HOUSE.  TO HEAR JEREMIAH AND HER LAUGHING AND TEASING EACH OTHER TOOK ME BACK TO MY CHILDHOOD AND MY PARENTS DOING THE SAME.  WE WERE REALLY JUST FINALLY STARTING TO HIT A GROOVE, A ROUTINE.  JEREMY AND I WOULD GET UP IN THE MORNINGS AROUND 5 AND IT WAS HIS RESPONSIBILITY TO WATER AND FEED THE ANIMALS AND TO WATER THE MOMO BECAUSE SHE COULD NOT LIFT THE BRITTA DISPENSER IN THE REFRIGERATOR.  SHE WOULD SPEND HER DAY WITH THE THREE CATS AND THE DOG.   SHE GOT HER EXERCISE BEING THE DOG’S BUTLER ALL DAY AND WOULD REMIND ME THAT SHE HAD DONE IT ALL DAY AND IT WAS MY TURN WHEN I GOT HOME.  SIX TO SEVEN WAS SACRED “FAMILY FUED” TIME.  THEN SHE WOULD LOOK AT HER RECORDINGS LIST ON THE DVR AND WANT TO KNOW WHAT I WANTED TO WATCH WITH HER.  SINCE SHE CHOSE HER CABLE / SATELLITE PROVIDER ON WHO HAD HALLMARK, YOU CAN ONLY IMAGE THE AMOUNT OF SUGAR IN TV VIEWING ALONE….THE ONLY THING THAT WE NEVER REALLY MANAGED TO GET TO WAS THAT SHE COULD NOT START HAVING A CONVERSATION WITH ME THE MINUTE THAT I WALKED IN THE DOOR AND THAT IF WE WERE NOT IN THE SAME ROOM, THEN I COULD NOT HEAR HER.  THIS WAS USUALLY MARKED WITH ME YELLING “ARE WE IN THE SAME ROOM?”  WHILE MY SISTER HAS MY FATHER’S QUIET RESERVE, I AM MY MOTHER’S DAUGHTER AND CAN TALK ABOUT ANYTHING FOR AN INDEFINITE PERIOD OF TIME.  

I AM A FIRM BELIEVER THAT YOU ARE MARKED BY THE PEOPLE AND EVENTS IN YOUR LIFE.  I AM MARKED BY THIS EVENT IN VERY SUBTLE WAYS AND VERY PROFOUND WAYS.  IN THESE TWO WEEKS, I HAVE LEARNED THAT I HAVE TO NOW MAKE MY OWN GROCERY LIST, GET HOME TO LET THE DOG OUT BECAUSE SHE NO LONGER HAS A BUTLER ALL DAY, GRACIE (HER CAT) STILL DOESN’T LIKE ME, THAT I HAVE TO LEARN TO PAY ALL THE BILLS AGAIN, AND THE MOST PROFOUND IS THAT IT IS REALLY QUIET WHEN I GET HOME,  WHILE IT WILL BE AWHILE BEFORE I RECOMMEND THAT YOU TELL SOMEONE TO TAKE A NAP, I DO RECOMMEND THAT YOU ALWAYS SAY “I LOVE YOU” AND KNOW THAT YOU ARE SO VERY, VERY BLESSED. "

Courage As Action

On Friday, November 11, 2016... I gave my first true public speech. I was honored to be asked to give the key note speech for the American Legion Post 218 in my home town of Washington, Missouri. It was bitter sweet for me. On October 23rd, my mother passed away suddenly. On November 6th, I gave her Celebration of Life speech and on the following day, we had her interred with our father at Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery with military honors. It was extremely important to me that I give this presentation because I knew it was something that she was very proud of me being asked to do. To all my veterans, thank you for you service in uniform and continued service out of uniform.

"Commander Lay and Mr. Brinker, I want to thank you for this opportunity to speak.   

First, I want to take care of the elephant in the room.  Who his the person and what credibility does she have to be standing in front of us today?  I have not served this nation as a member of any branch of the armed forces. I am the daughter of two Air Force veterans, one the Korean War and the other the Vietnam Era; the niece of two World War 2 veterans; the granddaughter of an immigrant and a mother of two amazing young men.  I am a 26 year teaching veteran in our public education system.  A social studies teacher at heart that teaches students with identified educational disabilities.  While the classroom I am assigned is in the English hallway...while the courses I am assigned to teach are junior and senior English, Personal Finance, and College 101...I teach from the historical perspective.  The walls are covered with two American flags -  one of which has hung for 26 years, photos of both my parents in their service uniforms, Marine Corps motivational posters, a podium bearing the leadership traits of our military branches; photos of students from the school I teach at that have entered the military and are now either serving or have joined our quickly growing veteran population, photos of young men that have been killed in action in Iraq or Afghanistan. I am a very humbled and blessed citizen teacher that recognizes that the freedoms that I have every day are because of the service and sacrifices that you and your families have given.   For that, I thank you.

This year, the national poster for Veteran’s Day has a sole head of an American Bald Eagle with the word “COURAGE” in all capital letters and the traditional phrase “honoring all that have served.”  When looking in the dictionary, courage is a noun - person, place or thing - with the definition of “the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty,danger, pain, etc., without fear; bravery.”  For many of us, courage is a verb - an action word - for me, I have seen courage as action.

In January of 2008, a former student was killed in action while serving in Baghdad, Iraq. It changed how I taught, parented, existed.  

I found myself becoming more involved as a support vehicle for the Patriot Guard Riders. I worked along side a Gold Star Father that honored his son by setting up the flags at Jefferson Barracks for memorial services...Courage as Action.

I started presenting to students in our United States History classes and asked the question, “What do you stand for?”  I met Julie Vinnedge, an amazing Gold Star Mother, whose son was killed in action in Afghanistan after being in country 16 days.  Every time that I am blessed to volunteer with Fallen Hero’s Dream Ride and Dream Riders, I see courage as action.

Miss Julie is the type of person that you do not say no to.  Actually, you say yes before you even know what you have gotten yourself into.  She came to me and said that she wanted me to work with a small GWOT veteran group.  During this time, I met a number of GWOT veterans.  Each one has allowed me into their worlds as far as they feel safe allowing me to go.  I have seen them conquer addiction to drugs, alcohol, prescription drugs...I have seen them isolate, I have grieved with them as they continue to lose brothers or sisters to suicide. Courage as Action.

I have seen them learn to walk again and to learn to live with new visible and invisible wounds.  Courage as Action.

I have seen them fight the Veterans Administration’s answer to solving the symptoms of PTSD by coming off the debilitating levels of benzodiazepines and other medications.  Courage as Action.

I have watched a small group of Vietnam Veterans, for the past 15 years, come and present to our US History classes about their experiences.  I have watched them heal, continue to heal, and to embrace a new generation of Veterans.  Courage as Action.

I said that I have two American Flags in my classroom...that second flag hangs as a reminder of how courage is action.  It is ripped through the lower middle portion and while I am very aware that to hang a flag that is ripped is considered disrespectful, it is with the utmost respect that it hangs there.   

On May 20th, 2013 an F5 tornado brought the community of Moore, Oklahoma to it’s knees.  The 1.3 mile wide tornado ripped through 17 miles … 24 people died … 7 of which were children at Plaza Towers Elementary.  Our small group quickly mobilized to deploy to assist in the search, rescue, and recovery efforts.  Two deployments of our group were already there when I arrived 4 days later with supplies and donations. Seeing the coverage of the damage on the news did not prepare me for what I woke up to the next morning.  As we set out on missions and scouted intel, I watched a group of veterans that were struggling in their daily lives to find purpose and define courage as action.  I saw smiles and heard laughter that I rarely saw or heard.  Their unique skill set from their tours of Iraq and Afghanistan had found a purpose in their civilian lives.  I saw courage as action when a little boy, that had been picked up prior to the tornado hitting Plaza Towers Elementary by his father and had not spoken since, was given a paracord bracelet by one of the veterans that carried the name of his battle buddy that was killed in action. Courage as Action.

That second flag is a constant reminder of Courage as Action.

Today, I come and ask you to be Courage as Action.

To not look at your service as in the past tense.  To embrace a new generation of veterans and their families.  To embrace a new generation of Gold Star Families and remind them that their loved one’s ultimate sacrifice is not forgotten.

When I was asked by Commander Lay to present a few months ago, I told my mother first and asked her if she would do me the honor of being here.  She said that she would and was very proud of me.  On Monday, I sat on a bench in one of Jefferson Barracks Committal Shelters next to my sister as a Navy veteran handed my sister and I her burial flag and stated “from a grateful nation.”  Those are words that as a veteran, you may seldom hear but from a grateful nation, from this grateful citizen….I thank you for the Courage as Action through your military service and ask you to continue to be Courage as Action after your military service.

Thank You"

Updated My Curriculum Vitae

About a year ago, I posted the Curriculum Vitae that I wrote as an example for my seniors to use when writing their's.  This is an activity that we do prior to reading "Into the Wild."  I feel that it is extremely important to examine your life periodically because when you do, I think you discover things about yourself.

Ms. Martell’s Curriculum Vitae

1) Born in rural Missouri, head first almost arriving before the doctor.

2) My birth year saw a “Purple Haze” of the Hendrix’s kind; Oscar was “A Man for All

Seasons;” and PBS was born.

3) My father walked high on steel beams across the Gateway to the West.

4) We moved East to The Bay State, the place of my father’s childhood.

5) We returned to the State of Misery

6) My 5th birthday party, my kindergarten class mates were invited but no one came.

7) Sundays were filled with sounds of an arm-chair football coach for Cardinals and

their giants, Dierdorf and Hart.  but the Steelers of Pittsburgh with Bradshaw and Swan were supreme.

8) After 2nd grade, another house, a new school, no friends

9) 4th Grade saw the arrival of the Fat Fairy and Mr. Alcorn that made a little girl

who loved school, hate school.

9) After 4th Grade, moved to the house of my inheritance.  New school … now

parochial not public.  Superficial friendships.

10) My father often slept at the kitchen table or on the back porch in his lawn chair induced

by the intake of Budweiser. There were arguments...threats to leave.

11) We traveled to Iran, “to where???” many said….to return 6 months later because of

a revolution, Islam, and Khomeini to questions of “where did you go?”   “Iran”    “Oh,

my, there????”

12) 8th grade came with the Big C….Cancer that is.  Innocence is ripped away, a little

girl skips being a teenager and is forced into adulthood.

13) Her body becomes the canvas for insurance paid tattoos.  The burn of 3300 RADs

of radiation a day, 5 days a week 4 weeks long.  The stares, mostly from adults.   

The smells, the burn, the ice, the vomit….all chemo, 2 times a month for 6 months.  NO PIZZA!  How will a 13 year old live!

14) 1985, She knew Stacy’s mom but not the one that they sang about.  College, away

from home, to the land of Sycamore Trees.   Anti-sorority socority girl…..sisters

were made for life.

15) 1991, first year of teaching….not much older than her students.  She learned from

them more than they probably learned from her.  24 years later, they are some of

her true and best friends.

16) 1997, she married at 30 to a man and his son.   1998, she adopted her oldest son.  

1999, she gave birth to her son, a toddler size blessing.

17) 2001, 9-11 A marriage starts to be enveloped in mental illness, verbal and

emotional abuse, the strength of the girl that became a woman was slowly

dismantled.  2007, The Big C comes again.

18) 2008, her world was rocked to the core with the KIA of a former student and the

daddy’s girl lost her daddy on this earth to her Father in Heaven… 2 guardian

angels she knows they were made..

19) 2012, the marriage implodes...she realizes that she is dead to herself, her family, her

friends, her students. She says it is time to bury the marriage and heal.  

20) November 2012, her Destiny becomes her Forever 16 Guardian Angel...her heart is

broken, her son’s heart is broken, it was so dark, so desolate, there was no light.

21) May 20, 2013, an F5 Tornado destroys Moore, Oklahoma.  She was led by a group of

veterans and responded to aid a community that she had no ties to.  In the wreckage, the destruction, the death, there was glimpses of beauty...it was a spiritual and humbling experience that would mark her

22) Her career is changing, not the students but the structure...becoming an industry

expecting cogs to to fit into a tight system.  Things she fought to get out of the

system have returned.  She continues to fight the system as a teacher that does

what is best for students and not what looks pretty on a chart or graph.

23) Her world continues to spiral until one day, she saw light…..faint light….but the

little girl….that skipped her adolescence….the woman she was slowly emerged…

24) She had set a date to go onto the next phase of her life, July 2020…if the system

allows her to be there that long.

25) She becomes one with her childhood home.  A home that was started in 1873.  She

knows the brick and mortar, she talks to it as if it was human.  To her it is because there are the writings of her father on the walls.  

26) Today, the light is bright.  She is perfectly imperfect.