Memorial Day - What it means.

I didn't say anything on Memorial Day for two reasons:

1.) I had been flying all day.

2.) These holidays suck the life out of me. I just didn't have the energy to write anything.

On that note, I have a few things to say about yesterday.

I have a lot of Military people on my Facebook, which is awesome, but when military holidays come around it can be overwhelming. My newsfeed was flooded in red, white, and blue, names of fallen, and pictures of headstones. Everytime I looked at it it took everything in me not to cry. Still, it makes me happy that people, most people, remember and know what the holiday is actually for.

Now, there is something that disturbed me a little and, really, has since last year. It seems to me that some people don't fully understand what Memorial Day is.

I started realizing last year when my friends and I went out and the place we went to was raising money for Wounded Warrior Project in honor of Memorial Day...

Does anyone else see the problem with this?

Lord knows I love all veterans, especially those who are wounded, but why would they be raising money for WWP on Memorial Day?

Also, I noticed a lot of people thanking veterans for their service yesterday, which should be done every day, really, but Memorial Day isn't really for them. If you are wanting to go out of your way to thank someone, maybe rethink who you should be thanking. (Don't shoot me, just saying...)

For anyone who is unaware, Memorial Day is not for all veterans. That is what Veterans Day is for. Memorial Day is for those who have lost their lives. So when thanking people on Memorial Day, thank a widow, or a mother or father whose child died, or tell a veteran that you are thinking of their fallen friends. Go to Arlington and lay flowers on the graves. Raise money for TAPS or AWP - organizations who help the families of the fallen. Remember the fallen that day, because the day is theirs. Please don't take it away from them.

I must throw this out there, too (I apologize ahead of time for a little rant.) There is nothing "happy" about the day, so to say "Happy Memorial Day!!" on your Facebook page is pretty offensive to the families. Sure it's a little touchy of us, but put yourself in our shoes. We don't expect you to say something spectacular about every man and woman who died, but to treat it as a fun holiday like Christmas or Halloween is just bothersome. While everyone else is saying, "HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY! HAPPY TO BE OFF WORK! HEADED TO THE BEACH!", we are holding back tears, flipping through pictures, and remembering our loved ones who were ripped away from us.This is a day of remembering and mourning for those of us who lost everything. Of course we go out and celebrate their lives, but to put a "Happy" in front of the day is inappropriate.

I say all of this not to be mean or offend anyone. I say it in hopes that people will be a little more sensitive to what the day really means for some. I also say it to make sure people know what Memorial Day stands for because it's important and, frankly, it's been annoying the crap out of me and the other widows. Don't downplay the day or take it away from those it is supposed to honor.

-Jimmy C. Kinsey II -

Born: June 27, 1984

Wounded in Ramadi, Iraq: April 1, 2006

Died: April 20, 2010

He was such a nerd. I miss that so much.

Warrior Dash 2012 - Mountain City, Georgia

I am currently recovering from one of the best weekends ever. Before I show you our muddy gloriousness, I must recommend that if you've ever considered doing a Warrior Dash, you must. It is so much fun.

We began the weekend at Tallulah State Park which quickly became a bust. I admit, my friends and I can get rowdy. Especially when there is a large group of us. Even more especially when we are anticipating such an event. The last straw for us was when the state troopers informed us that we were no longer allowed to laugh. For us, you might as well have told us to quit breathing. We went to huddle house that morning to brainstorm how to get the heck out of the no laugh zone. After calling around to a few places that were already full of dashers, our waitress (who seriously deserves a hi five from all eight of us) told us about a spot further in the mountains. We went to check it out and, low and behold, there was a beautiful spot next to a babbling river complete with clusters of small, purple butterflies waiting to greet us. Not to mention the sweetest, kindest, friendliest locals willing to help us with anything we needed. They even chopped us some firewood free of charge.

SOLD!

Nichols Campground near Clayton, GA.

We rushed back to the other site and had our things packed in, I promise you, no more than fifteen minutes. The group split up - some to set up at the new site, and some to get supplies at Wal-Mart. When my group got back from Wal-Mart, our new campsite was up and ready to go. At this point I was exhausted. I cracked open a beer and plopped into a camp chair facing the winding river.

Heaven.

See that Bama chair? That would be me! 

The girls were very excited about our new site! Kelly, 

Me, Amber, and Mindy. 

Kelly made a friend, his name is Frederick. 

The next day was Warrior Dash. We decided to dress up as a cheesy dodgeball team. The girls made "jerseys" earlier in the week for everyone in our group. We hadn't seen everyone in their uniforms together until that morning. It was AWESOME. Cheesiest of cheese. I have some of the coolest friends, ever.

Everyone in their dodgeball uniforms. From the left: Tango (Me), Cajun, Ambre, Mayfield, Bui, Slim, Coach, and.... Poot.... Hahaha! (She was peer pressured into that one.)

The boys doing a manly pose with the owner of the campsite. She was so sweet.

After taking our before pictures, we all loaded into the back of Nick's truck and took off through the mountains for the dash. Before you actually get to the event you have to meet somewhere and shuttle over because there are so many people. We rode in a big yellow school bus to the site. When they first dropped us off it was hard to tell how this thing was going to be set up because we had to walk a good bit to get there. At first it didn't even seem like a mud run. Then I started spotting people covered head to toe in mud. This induced giddyness and mild flailing. We walked up the mountain a little further and sure enough we began to hear music echoing in the distance. Out of nowhere a valley appears between two mountains that is covered in people dressed like complete and utter fools. Full fledged flailing and giddyness ensued. 

We had arrived!

Riding to the dash. I was obviously miserable.

As we walked in we saw people in every type of costume imaginable. Two men were dressed in suits, sunglasses, and briefcases. There was a rather large man wearing a pink bra and women's underwear over his shorts. I believe he was also rocking a uni-brow and a mullet which, in my opinion, made the outfit. There were ninja turtles, eighties rock stars, blue men, orange men, and everything in between. Some of them were already covered in mud, while others, like us, were waiting for their race time. We all registered and waited around for our 1:30 race. 

(I wish I had pictures of all the crazies, but at this point I had no camera.)

It was announced that our race was in twenty minutes. We got in a huddle and decided to do really bad and embarrassing stretches in a circle... because that's what dodgeball players are supposed to do, right? When we were finished, we put our hands together, counted to three, and chanted "TIGHT PERIMETER" (not sure why, other than our friend Brandon is a nerd). We got in line, danced to the music, bounced a lot, fire shot into the air, and it was time to run. 

We started off slow. In fact, the only people behind us were a couple of girls that already looked exhausted. We figured, however, that we'd let the crazies go ahead of us so we didn't get knocked off of any obstacles. 

Safety first is always the best way to go. 

Eventually we got to the first obstacle, and this is where it got awesome. 

Here's a breakdown of this particular Warrior Dash: 

1. Simple jog.

2. Wade through neck deep water.

3.  Crawl through mud under barbed wire. 

4. Crawl through some crazy net thing. 

5. Jog some more.

6. Scale a wall with a rope.

7. Hurdles you have to jump over then slide under.

8. Jog some more.

(Things started getting a little blurry around here so I might jumble some things up.)

9. Climb up a rope wall, then climb down a rope wall.

10. Dive into a lake, crawl onto a floating contraption, go across floating contraption, dive back off and swim to the other side. 

11. Run some more.

12. Climb up another wall with pegs, then slide down a pole.

13. Run some more.

14. Climb across a horizontal rope wall. 

15. Run some more.

16. Slide down the biggest slip n slide ever.

17. Run some more.

18. Jump over junk cars.

19. Run some more.

20. Leap over fire. (Big fire, if you ask me)

21.Submerge yourself and swim through the nastiest mud ever underneath more barbed wire. (This is where you get completely coated.)

22. Run to the finish line.

Climbing the rope wall. From left: Kelly, Amber, Me, Nick

Jumping from the floating platform into the lake. My face explains how I 

felt about that. 

Horizontal rope climb.

Jumping over fire.

Runnin' through mud.

Running through more mud.

And this is the result after the race...

We had so much fun, despite our scrapes and bruises, that we are already hoping to go to another one in the Fall. In fact, I want to scope out different races and do them as often as possible. They are an absolute blast, you get a work out, you get to camp out, you make memories - what is there not to love!?

We spent the rest of the weekend eating s'mores, enjoying the scenery, making friends with woodland creatures, and just having fun.

Good times, man. Good times.

Juggling The Past With The Present

Aren't these things supposed to become easier? That is what people keep telling me, " Oh, honey. It gets easier." Ok, that's nice... I'm still waiting.

Here's the thing. Sure, living with grief is becoming easier in most areas of my life. It's a numbness, I think. Grief is a part of my daily life. It's kind of like having to look in the mirror every morning and see big hips and wrinkles. I hate it, but I get over it and go on with my life. It's there, it will always be there, I've learned to accept that. 

Here is the problem...

I'VE accepted my grief. I've accepted I'm weird. That doesn't mean everyone else has - and that is where the problem lies, which brings up a few questions (for me, anyway). 

Is it time now for me to start working on being a little more normal? Are these new found flaws given by circumstance things that I need to "work on" or things I should "accept"? Is it healthy to embrace grief and the fact that I miss my husband, and live my life in a way that honors those things, or should I be trying to fix myself so that I can get as close to "how I was" as I possibly can and leave these things behind? 

If people don't like who I am now, is it my fault for being selfish in being comfortable in my grief and being attached to my husband forever, or is it theirs for not understanding where I'm coming from and not accepting who I've chosen to be - a widow who lives in honor of her husband? 

....I honestly see both sides. The way I live my life now could be viewed selfish to those who are alive. I do get that.

Thing is, as much as I wanted the word "widow" to get away from me in the beginning of this mess, and as much as I wanted to pretend Cleve did not die, I am now FINALLY embracing these things and it is liberating in a way that I'm not sure I can describe. Yea, it hurts to accept, but it is also freeing because now - now that I've accepted who I am and where I came from - I can use that to better myself and help others. The more I'm realizing this, the more happiness I am feeling and the more I want to embrace it and run with it.

Now that I'm "here", it seems that it makes people other than widows (POTW - I am officially making this a widow term) uncomfortable. It makes me more difficult to be around because the things I am openly able to talk about, like switching a screwed up headstone, makes people feel uneasy. 

Does this make me selfish? 

If so, I'm just becoming more and more selfish with each day. And what if I said I think I'm okay with it? I don't know what else to say, because... I don't want to change. If I die honoring my husband and making sure every person I can possibly find knows his sacrifice, I'll die content. If I die knowing that I gave back to the community I love so dearly - the Military community, specifically those wounded - I will die in what I define as success. 

So, where does this leave me? Possibly on a deserted island with a bunch of other Military widows like me, because I'm finding that they may be the only ones who will accept me. 

It's true, I would love to blend in with the rest of the world. I would love to re-marry and have children and prance off into the sunset through my white picket fenced yard, but the reality is that that isn't me anymore. I gave those desires to someone else and he is now gone. Now I am someone who wants nothing more than to live for him as long as possible. If that makes other people uncomfortable - even if those other people are everyone else on the freaking planet - then I guess I'll be alone with his memory. 

I am aware that times changes a lot. It changes me regularly. And maybe all of this will blow over. Maybe one day I'll decide that putting all of this in the past is what is best. Personally, I hope that I'll just find a way to juggle my past and my present a little more fluidly. The thought of my past being too far away scares me and I have no desire for it. 

I am now one of those people - like the Uncle on Napoleon Dynamite who is always reminiscing about his high school football days. 

Just call me Uncle friggin' Rico...!

Take it or leave it, man. I don't have the energy to fight who I've become. 

So, I dunno. I've been feeling content in many ways and lost in others. I love the people who are alive around me, and I also love someone who is gone. I've found a place that makes me happy, but some people are having a hard time handling my out-in-the-open widow-ness. For now, I'm sticking to what feels right. 

I am deeply sorry to anyone that feels they are negatively effected by that. 

I just won a milbloggie!

I need to write a quick post because I'm going to be out of town for the weekend (will say something more "eloquent" when I get back.)

First of all, I just won the 2012 milbloggie for best military spouse blog.

Thank you to everyone who voted. Ya'll. Are. AWEsome.

Thank you to all that were finalists with me. You are all truly fabulous, amazing, spectacular, beautiful, awesome, and every other cheesy word that my wine infused brain cannot think of right now. You were some very stiff competition. My winning is quite baffling to me, but as someone who isn't good at much... I can't turn down an award.

Most of all, I thank my husband. Many of the things in my life never would have come to be if it weren't for him loving me and wanting me to be his wife. He was taken from me, but the love we shared brought so much goodness to my life. I will forever be indebted to him. I accept this award for him. He is the heart of this blog and therefore it is just as much his as it is mine.


.....Meep! <3

There's nothing I can do about it

I'm having a moment.

How did I get here again? And why am I still trying to do... anything? Remind me what the point is? 

I miss him. And I'm thoroughly exhausted by it. I've felt this way for too freaking long and I don't want to anymore. 

Most things in life can be tweaked. They can be changed, rearranged, redone. Death... being a widow... there is nothing you can do about it. I will always be this. I will always feel like this. That fact gets me so frustrated with life. 

Seriously, God, please take this back. I don't want it.

SICK of it. So tired, dude. 

Squeezing in a Blog Post While I Can

Quick update in between homework.

First of all, I've lost nearly twenty pounds. Had to throw that out there first because I'm a girl and these things are important to girls.

Also very important is the fact that tomorrow is officially the last day of my first semester of college. Thank you. Thank you. Yes, I have a ways to go but, dang it, it took me a long time to just get here so I'm pretty stoked.

This Summer already has many activities planned including (hopefully) an AWP trip and a trip to Walter Reed. The AWP trip I'm hoping to go on is to Seattle to kayak with killer whales. As soon as I saw this opportunity I nearly peed my pants. Then I called Kelly so she could pee hers, too. Three of my favorite widows and I are going to be waiting by our computers the day we are supposed to sign up in hopes that we will be able to get on it. Getting on these trips involves virtual widow cat fights (not really, it's just how I imagine it when there are too many who want to go on one trip). Going is never guaranteed. Keeping my fingers tightly crossed.

As far as Walter Reed, Kelly and I are going to show some love to my favorite people in the whole wide world and their families. We're hoping to grow a little project from there, but for now we're just going to bring some care packages and maybe some yummy food. High fives and cheesy jokes are a given.

Let's see.

I'm hoping to work on my book a bit more this Summer since I'll most likely be bored a lot. I'm still going back and forth as to whether or not I want ALL of my dirty laundry flailing for the world to see, but I still want to finish it even if it's just for me, myself, and I.

I started writing for MilitaryFamily.com a few months ago. I forgot to mention that. I haven't had too much time to contribute recently but plan to contribute more to that this Summer as well. Ya'll check it out if you'd like. It's a newer site, but it's quickly filling up with useful info for...wait for it... Military Families.

This update is becoming longer and longer.

Nicholas is still adorable and his silly jokes still make me laugh.

My parents still live in the tundra.

I still miss Cleve (more every day).

I still have the cutest dog in the world.

Oh, I have a "tan" (color other than clear) for the first time in six years.

I'm starting to feel bad for wasting precious internet space on this post.

Time to get back to homework.

Two Year Festivities and a Little Bit of Illegalness

My first picture next to him... like this. Kelly convinced me it would be okay... and now I love it. 

Giving Cleve a shot of Crown. He did love his Crown.

I had to take one too. Though, I'm really not a fan.

My widows moving the headstone that was WRONG to replace it with the right one. Seriously... only a widow would do this for you. I love them. With everything in me.

 

 Moving the icky one to the car. It will be placed next to a tree that is planted for him. Though it was wrong, it was still made for him and was on his grave for a year. It can't go to waste. 

Hahaha. Muddy dress. Illegal activities. I'm sorry... but for such a craptastic day, this made it kind of awesome.

See? It's just so much better now that it's right. Finally. Two years later. The FLIPPIN headstone is right. 

It's Been Two Years - And it still hurts

Yesterday I woke up at 5 A.M. as I usually do. I put my slippers on, dragged myself to the bathroom, closed the door behind me, and looked in the mirror. I felt a little more tired than usual - a little heavier. My motivation to go to school was lacking. The bed was calling my name. I looked in the mirror and analyzed my aging, tired face. Every small wrinkle and flaw seemed to be more obvious than usual. I don't typically notice, but I have changed so much, especially since he's been gone. I don't like it. It is a visual reminder that I'm still here, without him - that time and life continue despite his absence. The very fact that I was getting ready for College, the one thing I wanted so badly but just couldn't seem to reach, baffled me. Then I thought about the people I've met and the many other things I've done that Cleve will never know about or be a part of. I thought to myself, "How the hell did I do this? How did I get here?" I had realized the night before that yesterday, exactly two years ago at just before 4:30 in the afternoon, was the last time I heard Cleve's voice. I had gone the entire month anticipating this week so that, maybe, I would be okay, but realizing that immediately tore down the walls I built around my heart and left me bare and vulnerable - and it hurt. My daily routine suddenly seemed pointless in the grand scheme of things. The tiny, psycho voice in my head was screaming, "BAIL! BAIL! QUIT! BE DONE! Go. Back. To Bed." It was loud and I wanted to listen. I did not want to go to school. Alas, it's the last few weeks and it's crucial that I go to keep my grades where they are. I've worked so hard. Cleve wanted this for me - that is reason enough. So I sucked it up and went. I wore my biggest, darkest sunglasses just in case. It was a good call because they were needed. The smallest reminders had me a mess.

80's Mustang - Cry.

Billie Holiday - Cry.

No reason - Cry.

The color green - Cry.

The town he's buried in - Cry.

Getting an A and not being able to tell him - Cry.

Repeating our last words over and over and over in my head - Cry. Cry. Cry. 

Yes, the sunglasses came in very handy. 

After my last class, I bolted. I tried everything I could to shake the pain off of my body. Happy music. Windows down. Think of cupcakes. Make chimp noises. Nothing worked. I needed a widow. I texted Kelly asking her to meet me for a glass of wine. Because she's amazing, she met me within the hour. Her presence instantly helped. And then I drank my wine too fast. And then I was drunk. Kelly had to drive me home and I slept until about eleven that night. I kinda felt like an idiot. At the same time I was relieved that that time, 4:30 in the afternoon, was gone. I wouldn't have to deal with it for another year. 

Then I realized it was about to be exactly two years since Cleve died. It just doesn't end. 

Today I'm alright as of now, but I have yet to leave my bed. I keep getting this "Oh my god Cleve is actually dead" feeling. Like I hadn't actually realized it until that point. Then it fades, then it comes back, then it fades again. I've been getting random bouts of guilt. I've had a few irrational thoughts that, perhaps none of this is real - it's just a really bad - and long - dream.

Kelly and I are going to be hanging out today. We have a few little things planned for him. One of which may be illegal, but I kind of don't care. Heck, I'll even tell you what it is. His new (CORRECT) headstone was finally placed, but you know what they did? They kept the old one where it was, at the top of the grave, and placed the new, correct one at the bottom. Why they did this, I'm not sure, but I plan to fix this little problem today. I dare someone to stop me. I plan to take the old headstone, plant a tree somewhere that means a lot to both of us, and place it with the tree. Illegal? I'm not sure, but seriously... I don't care. 

Two years. Two friggin' years. Where does the time go? Didn't this just happen? It's truly unbelievable. I miss him so much. I wish there were better words in the dictionary. I wish there was a way to express how I feel right now. I feel like I could explode right now. All of the love and memories and sadness and happiness and everything in between have filled me up to capacity. I seriously think I might explode. 

To all who read this, REMEMBER HIM. He may not of died the day he was injured. His death may be different than that of your typical war hero. His name may not be on memorials or bridges. But do not doubt that his death was a casualty of this war. He fought long and hard. He went through horrid things that most will never have to experience. His death was avoidable and heinous. He is a war hero. 

He will ALWAYS be loved, and never, ever forgotten. Not if I have anything to do with it. 

I have not and will not stop loving you. Every day I live, I live it for you.

Top Military Spouse Blog for 2012?

Hey guys! I discovered the other day that I was nominated and chosen as a finalist for the top Military Spouse Blog of 2012 on Milblogging.com.

I'm quite honored.

The winner will be whoever gets the most votes from here. So, if you have a second (it literally takes about that long) and could go to the "Military Spouse Blogs" section and click "Wife (Widow) of a Wounded Marine" (obviously), it would mean a lot.

Voting ends on the 20th (Cleve's angelversary. I will probably be hiding in a cave somewhere with another widow. Don't worry, though, I'll be back.)

Go here to vote: Top Military Spouse Blog of 2012

Don't forget to browse the other selections and vote for your favorites there, too. There are lots and lots of good ones.

Sophie says, "Thank you." And so do I. <3

Where to begin

Life has been extremely busy. I've come to my blog a few times in the past week or so fully intending to write a post only to feel overwhelmed and close my laptop. Let's try this again...

Where to begin.

April 1st has come and gone again. Cleve's alive day - not even sure I should call it that anymore - was a little more difficult to swallow than I expected. I went from perfectly fine to blubbering mess - right in front of Nick. That is not allowed in my world, but I did it anyway, and it sucked. Alas, I survived. Six years down.

This month in general has been pretty good considering, though there is a fog in my head that won't go away. It's effecting most of the things in my life to a degree (ex. It's really hard for me to focus on this post right now), but I'm refusing to let it hinder me.

School is still going good. I got a B on a couple of tests and felt defeated, then realized how stupid I am for feeling that way over a B! I'm fine now. I make myself laugh because when I was younger I could care less about grades. Now I want to make the Dean's list. I... want to make the Dean's list. That's just funny to me. Yet, I'm obsessing over it. It has really been a task to keep myself focused on why I'm really here - this is not a competition; I am here to learn and to get a degree. I still want to be the best, though... must. prove. self.

What else?

Oh, my friend Andrew (Walking to Listen) called me the other day and told me that on his travels he more or less ran into President Bush Sr. I was groggy from just waking up from a nap, but I believe he had dinner with him and his wife Barbara. Amid their conversations, Barbara proceeded to tell Andrew that she had read the blog I wrote about us meeting and loved it. Then Andrew and the Bush's just sat around talking about our story... Isn't that kinda crazy? Barbara Bush read my blog...and talked about Cleve. I never really think about who all could be reading this, but when I hear something like that it becomes a reality that, yes,  my words are out there. For anyone to see. That's a little scary...and cool at the same time. And let me not forget to throw out there how randomly awesome Andrew is. First of all, who the heck decides to walk across America? That guy. Who the heck walks across America and runs into past Presidents? That guy. I mean, really. He's spectacularly spectacular and I love hearing about all of his adventures.

I know I'm forgetting things because I seriously felt like I was going to explode with things I had to write about, but now I'm drawing a blank. Ah, well. It's almost bed time anyway.

I hope this blog finds everyone well. I will be back next time I can part the fog long enough to write something legible.

Do me a favor? Remember Cleve this next week. His two year angelversary is on the 20th. Two years too damn long. <3