En route to Jonah's final resting place.
These past few weeks have been such a sad but inspiring escape from my typical reality. As a stay at home mom to a happy 9 month old, our days seem so simple and routine. From the moment Nick called at half past midnight on Tuesday, September 21st, our former day's structure has been a distant memory.
Nick called me a few hours after the crash, at the same time the Colonel called his own wife, to inform me that tragedy had struck. I had just fallen into a very deep sleep and missed Nick's first two calls. I sleepily answered on the third ring, getting my usual excited butterflies to see the "Restricted" caller ID pop up on my phone. From the moment Nick first spoke, I knew that this phone call wouldn't be our usual update on the day's happenings. He told me that I needed to wake up, and that something bad had happened. Three of our soldiers were gone and I knew their wives. He couldn't tell me anything more, but to expect a phone call from the Colonel's wife for further direction. And then the call ended. I began sobbing uncontrollably at the thought that women I know would soon be opening the door to uniformed soldiers reading her the news that her husband was never coming home. I felt sick and so desperately helpless.
I called my parents needing to unload some of the weight that I was now carrying. Mom and Dad hung on the phone with me until I was able to temporarily calm down. I spent the following hours combing through all of my e-mails to compile an e-mail for our Rear-Detachment Commander with all of the contact information for the spouses and family members who were on vacation or away from home. I believed that, in some way, that was what I could do to help. Although, nothing I could do would truly be helpful, the course of these families lives had changed while they slept, and there was nothing that anyone could do that would fix it. My mind raced through all of my spouses faces; and, morbidly, tried to determine who would be better equipped, strong enough, to handle the news. It sounds so ridiculous seeing my logic now, but, there was no preventing my mind from going to really dark places. I finally dozed in the last couple of hours before Emmy awoke. Seeing her smiling face was encouraging, how wonderful it is to be 9 months old and completely oblivious to all the sadness in the world. I only wish I could protect her from it always.
My phone rang at about 6:30am, it was the Colonel's wife informing me that she, the Brigade Commander's wife and the Rear-Detachment Chain of Command were about to meet and that she would call me later to share what information that she could. It's not appropriate that I speak about our leadership situation, but this, much like all of our command experience so far, was very much colored by Army politics. Torn between doing what I felt was right, and what my husband's boss' wife is telling me to do, and being fearful that I still had no idea which if my families were affected by the crash, my anxiety was leaving me feeling suffocated. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head and wake up after this nightmare was over.
My phone started ringing early on Tuesday. Major media outlets were in Afghanistan covering the recent elections, so they broke the story of the crash barely two hours after it happened. Needless to say, our families were already sent into a tailspin. When this happens, the MWR phones and internet go to "black out" down range so that the surviving soldiers cannot call home to share the news. The concept is that all of the families be left in the dark until those affected are properly notified, the nightmare would only worsen if someone were to learn the news of their soldier being killed in action over facebook. This is ideal, in theory, but with technology being what it is, and soldiers carrying personal cell phones and private internet satellites, text messages are sent home despite the commander's best efforts.
Wives began calling me and texting me that they had received word from their soldiers, and felt tremendous relief, at the time, none of them knew that it was our company's soldiers who were lost. I, too, found comfort in the illegal texts sent home, because I could cross another family off my mental list, knowing that they weren't the ones who would receive that dreaded knock on the door. A little after 11am, I got my first phone call from a wife who was driving over to our first widow's home. I could barely make out what she was saying through her hysterical tears, beyond the words "I just don't know what to say to her." And then she hung up. Not long after, I arrived home to find that my Nick had sent me a message over Yahoo messenger wanting an update from the homefront. What I would give to have him home with me, holding me. It would be too much to expect him to tell me that everything was going to be ok, because I knew that nothing would make this ok. He was angry that I had not been included in the morning meetings and that no one had informed me of the names of our fallen Lancers. So, he told me. And I felt sick. All over again.
I struggled to know if I should call the widows. I had been told not to by my leadership, but that seemed so cold and heartless. I had known two of them, they weren't close friends, but both are incredible women and had definitely left impressions on me from the moment I first met them. I first called Mrs. Tiffany Wagstaff, the newlywed turned widow to CW3 Matt Wagstaff. It was a phone call that I will never forget.
The next 48 hours, I bounced from call waiting call to call waiting call. Families wanting to know how to help and just wanting to talk. The surviving families were grieving the loss of their friends, but also feeling guilty because of the relief they felt that their soldier is still alive.
It took a little over 28 hours to complete the notification of the primary and secondary next of kin. Some of the rosters included inaccurate addresses and these family members were scattered all over the country. I was still unable to official speak about the crash with any of my family members, which was not easy given the number of hours I was logging on the phone.
Not long after Nick first told me the names of our fallen, I received an e-mail from Mrs. Nina McClellan who was just now responding to an e-mail I sent out to verify whether or not she had received an informational call through a pilot message system. It was 11:04 am on September 21st, my heart sank knowing that they hadn't yet informed her that her husband was dead.
24 hours after the notification was complete, I was given the "go ahead" to reach out to my families. Everyone was hungry to help and had so many ideas of how to properly memorialize our fallen. Wading through this influx of "Lancer love," I quickly realized that I was drowning. I called in my reinforcements, Mom and Kris. Their presence was the first of many signs that God had His hand on me through this tragedy.
With Emmy getting the love and attention that she requires, but that I was unable to provide, I was able to properly support our local widow, Mrs. Tiffany Wagstaff, as well as the local surviving families. Tiffany allowed us to bring she and her family meals after the first couple of days. When I arrived with her first meal, she invited me into her home. I stayed for several hours that night, as she proceeded to let me into some of her favorite memories of Matt, feeling confident that, through them, he was sending her messages. I promised that those stories wouldn't leave her kitchen table, but I will say that I do find comfort in knowing that Matt had known true love. He was just one month shy of his R&R, when he and Tiffany would have enjoyed a belated honeymoon in St. Thomas. They were just married in January. Matt seemed to look so serious in all of the photos, except for those where he was with Tiffany. He always had his arms tightly wrapped around her with a giant smile on his face.
After all that Nick and I endured last year, I knew that I would travel to the funerals of our three fallen Lancers. It wasn't ever a question, really. I was only worried that the logistics would be feasible. I don't believe that there was any special coincidence in how my trip plans unfolded. It can only be explained by Divine Intervention. First, the dates and times of each soldiers ceremonies were staggered. I was able to "purchase" all but one one-way ticket with the minimum number of airline miles. I have just 300 miles remaining; I had accrued just enough to fund this trip. The one ticket that I did need to purchase, my red-eye bringing me from Washington to Indiana in the knick of time for Marvin's funeral, was the only ticket that would work and was hundreds of dollars less expensive than all the rest. The signs kept coming that God was with me at this time, providing me with the encouragement that I was craving.
Mom and I drove to Indiana last Wednesday, Andy's 3rd birthday. We left early Thursday morning, Mom leaving for California as I departed for Washington state. It was not the first time in the last two weeks that I was literally trembling with anxiety. God calmed my nerves by granting me a row to myself in business class so that I could rest comfortably. Both flights went smoothly, but my nervous butterflies began to return as we made way for landing at Portland International Airport. It didn't take me long to find my way to the rental car facility, where I was handed the keys to an upgraded vehicle. I had to smile, because God kept giving me proof that He was in control and that He would carry me through the difficult week that I was about to face.
After a very early hotel check-in (thank you, Lord!), I was showered and ready to take on the day. I tried calling Nina for the second time since the news of her husband's passing. This time, she answered. I was scared, not knowing what to say, but somehow managed to stammer out that I was in town and ready to help her in any way possible.
Little did I know that Nina already had lots of help. Tons of help! That became apparent as Angie (another Lancer wife) and I attended Jonah's viewing on Thursday night. Jonah was a deeply religious man, and his church family was a very large part of his life as was he to theirs. Angie and I stepped into the massive line that was already forming well outside of the Apostolic Lutheran church doors. We soon realized that we were a) the only women wearing pants and b) the only women not wearing scarves covering our heads. It became clear how very orthodox Jonah was in his faith. As the line moved toward the alter of the church, I realized that we were actually viewing Jonah, for which I was far from ready. I looked around, though, noticing that everyone, including small children, were completely at ease as they paused to pay their respects. Their strength filled me.
Since we so obviously stuck out like sore thumbs, one of the women from the church shared her hymnal and began explaining the church customs to us. The Apostolic Lutheran church is very simply beautiful. There weren't any decorations inside the church, and that philosophy translated into the service program as well. Every pew in the church was filled and every 15 minutes someone would begin to sing a hymn from the book and then the crowd joined in. I was so eager to find Nina, though.
I had last seen her in February, at a company social. She was four months pregnant and preparing to move from Tennessee to Battle Ground, Washington into a rental home around the block from her parents. Jonah spent the last two weeks before deploying moving Nina and their two small children across the country. I have found such comfort knowing that he did everything he could to ensure that they would be taken care of while he was away, little did they know that it would be permanently.
Nina had left such an impression on me. Emmy was all of 6 weeks old and Nina was feeling excited for this baby's arrival. She was high risk, and she spoke openly about having lost two babies early in she and Jonah's marriage. My heart ached for her, but she explained how, through that tragedy, they learned about the beauty and fragility of life. She seemed so at peace. At 25, this woman has experienced more loss that most anyone else her age. When I did find her at Jonah's viewing, her strength was just as apparent as when we first met. She said to me in her signature gentle tone, "He is in Heaven now, if only we all could be so lucky...I will miss him, but I would never wish him back."
Angie and I made sure to secure some scarves for our heads for his funeral service the following day. It was important to us to be respectful to the customs that Jonah and his family practice. We arrived early knowing that the crowd they were anticipating was unprecedented. Word had spread that two of the wives of Jonah's fellow soldiers were there, and our new friends sat us prominently in the second row of the church. We were embarrassed, and felt relieved when they moved us back, to make room for the General and his entourage, to the third row.
The ceremony was beautiful, I think what was most touching are the hymns that we sang. I wish that I had memorized the words, because I found comfort in them at the time. After the funeral service was over, we filed out of the row, paid our last respects to a very peaceful Jonah, and the walked out. It took over two hours for the remaining two thousand attendants to do the same. Then the processional commenced, led by flag-toting motorcyclists, Jonah's coffin was transported via police escort to a very small cemetery on the other side of town. After a 21-gun salute and a bugler playing taps, the American flag draped over his casket was methodically folded and handed to Nina. Subsequent flags went to Jonah's parents and to each of his children, Ayden, 4, Ayla, 2, and Renn, 3 months. The typically happy Renn was crying as the ceremony was brought to a close, my sentiments exactly.
My red-eye that night was, thankfully, uneventful until, of course, my second flight from Detroit to Indianapolis came around. My schedule was already extremely tight and I already anticipated missing the beginning of Marvin's funeral, which significantly added pressure to my timeline. I had a gate change at the time my flight was scheduled to depart. Lovely. I am boycotting Delta for the time being, just FYI. Anyways, I had more than enough time to change into my black uniform in a Family Restroom and squeeze in some pump time as I am still nursing Emmy. I landed 45 minutes late and ran to my get-a-way car, where Kris was waiting for me, with a napkin covering the clock on my car. That girl knows me well.
Kris proceeded to drive as fast as she possibly could, for three hours, through rain and shine to Elkhardt, Indiana. We arrived, to see the Patriot Guard poised and ready outside of Marvin's high school entrance. We ran inside to catch the last 10 minutes of the funeral as Marvin was posthumously awarded four medals. I did not have a contact person at Marvin's funeral, and really had no idea who was who. I understand that his family situation is a complicated one, and no one was active in my FRG. I got a few annoyed looks as I attempted to respectfully ask other onlookers to point out his wife and parents to me. No one could help me.
Kris and I climbed back into my trusty car and fell into line with the funeral processional. As with Jonah, Marvin's coffin was carried in a hearse behind an impressive gang of Harly-riding, flag-toting Patriot Guardsmen (and women!) It gives me chills thinking about it. Particularly, when we rounded a corner and saw a very elderly gentleman, in a wheelchair, watching from his front yard. In one hand he held a very large American Flag and the other hand was crossed over his chest. I am certain that no other 23 year old man has ever had the capacity to create such an epic traffic jam in Elkhardt, Indiana as Marvin did that day.
The burial ceremony, with full military honors, boasted the same 21 gun salute, taps and the presentation of the flag to Marvin's family. I truly hate that this ritual is becoming so familiar to me. I noticed a recognizable face in the military ceremony, a good friend of ours, CPT Josh Clemmons. The aviation community is a small one. Josh, thankfully, was able to introduce me to Marvin's father, wife and 2 year old daughter. I felt so privileged to meet the baby girl that Marvin spoke of to my Nick...Not long ago, he had given Nick some advice of how to fast track the reunion process with Emmy when Nick comes home for R&R. Marvin had told Nick that after his baby girl had fallen asleep, he would pick her up and place her on his chest. That way when she woke up he was the first person she saw. He swore by his technique....She is beautiful. She giggled and played with me for the brief minute I was with her, I can see well why he was so enamored.
Shortly thereafter, Kris and I drove home to our own babies who had been in the loving care of JP, Ann and TJ. I couldn't wait to squeeze my girl. I missed her like crazy, and I swear that her hair grew longer and her army crawls became more proficient in the 48 hours that I was away.
Monday morning, I found myself back at Indianapolis International, this time I was Utah-bound. Feeling a little more confident about my ability to navigate around an unfamiliar place, I settled into my flight. I arrived to dreary weather, that just seemed fitting for all that was about to happen. Once again, I hit the jackpot with my hotel and they let me check in several hours early. After some lunch and a nap, I was on my way to pick up my wonderful father-in-law from the airport, who flew in at my mother-in-law's request, to support both me and CW3 Matt Wagstaff's family. Amazing.
That evening, we pulled up the the funeral home to find the perimeter shielded by the Patriot Guard carrying large American flags. I got goosebumps for the thousandth time since I first left home. We entered into the flower and photograph adorned building and waited in line for quite some time to get our chance to hug Matt's family. It's not hard to see why Matt was such an incredible man given the people in his life.
The funeral service the following day was just as beautiful. There were two slideshows of perhaps every picture that has ever been taken of Matt. I am certain that many people will find great comfort watching those videos in the future. There were several speakers recounting their favorite memories of Matt, and it was clear that the 2 hour-long funeral could have lasted much longer given all the good that Matt had done in his 34 years.
Once again, we fell into line as the police and Patriot Guard motorcade escorted Matt's flag-draped coffin in a glass "Last-Ryde" carriage. It was gorgeous, something you might find in a royal funeral processional. It was so appropriate for the hero that he is. We found ourselves at Camp Williams, Veterans Memorial Cemetery, where Matt, too, was given full military honors. The familiar 21 gun salute, taps and the presentation of the flags were completed this time, for Matt's grieving family and friends. And then, there was a helicopter fly-over which served as a special reminder that Matt died doing what he loved. Tiffany and Matt's mother, Suzanne, gained composure to read the poem "Look for me in Rainbows," and I am told that not long after the ceremony concluded, Matt revealed himself in the most radiant, long-lasting rainbow. Just as the poem had promised.
Mr. Horn and I left as soon as the funeral director had dismissed the gathering. We were cutting it close with our flight departure time looming in just an hour and a half. Thankfully, once again, the Lord blessed us with a smooth drive, and we arrived with a little time to spare before boarding our respective flights home. I couldn't wait to wrap my arms around my sweet baby girl; she was in the best hands while I embarked on what was truly a life-altering experience.
Tiffany and Suzanne Wagstaff shortly after reading this poem at Matt's burial ceremony.
