Year Nine
October has come again. Like it does every year, without fail. I used to look forward to this time of year. Fall. Family outings to the pumpkin patch. Halloween. Now, I dread it. October 5th will mark nine years since Daniel, my late Husband, lost his life while serving our country in Afghanistan. And now, my body physically starts to ache around this time. I lose sleep. I get short-tempered. My body reacts to the trauma that occured almost nine years ago.
I have written multiple blogs about this day. About how my Dad had to come to work and tell me that Dan had died, since I wasn't home to receive the dreaded knock on the door. About how I had to tell Dan's best friend and Father that he was gone. About how I literally went into a dream like fog while planning his funeral; staring at pictures of caskets and headstones. It is still a time that seems so vivid and painful, but also like I was watching someone else experience it. It's hard to put into words. And like I have also written before, there is no widow handbook. Nothing that tells you what to do, or how to do it. You are in survival mode. Nothing prepares you for walking through a cold, dewy cemetery, picking out where Dan will be laid to rest. And absolutely nothing prepares you for the hefty and intense decisions that get thrown at your during that time; especially when it is a military death.
With all of that said, there were some beautiful moments that transpired during those first few days following Dan's death. I think the first time I laughed out loud is when I went to the airport to pick up some of Dan's family, and his little brother Erik took one look at me and said, "So this is what you look like without make up on." The first words out of his mouth. And I needed that laugh so badly. I was surround by three beautiful babies the entire time; my nephews Gracin and Carter, and tiny Madeline Joy. Those three kept us smiling, and were a nice distraction at times. And the stories. We sat around and told so many Dan stories, that he would have probably been upset. Stories from his childhood, high school, his military life, and his life as a Husband. We laughed. We cried. We talked about him. Constantly. And that is what saved me. Hearing so many people with his name on their lips. Being around his family; especially his brothers. They have his eyes. His laugh. I felt so close to Dan, and still do, when I am around his family. And perhaps the most beautiful and painful moments were the military funeral and burial. It was such a beautiful, humbling, and honorable thing to be a part of. From TAPS being played, to the 21-gun salute, it was something to be seen. The streets to and from the Air Force base were lined with people. Workers. Students. Families. All holding signs and paying their respects to Dan.
And of course there we some embarrassing and silly moments too. Reading his autopsy report and having them list, "One mustache" as part of his physical description. He sure loved that big ol' stache. Having my family politely tell me that it was finally time to shower and change out of my Victoria Secret sweats. Watching all of my friends help grade my sisters papers for her students so that she could be around to help out. And requesting that everybody change to a bright color following the funeral. No idea why I did that. I guess black was too much for me that day? Crazy widow stuff.
Bottom line, October 5th will always suck for me. It will always be the day that I lost Dan. It will always be the day I joined the widowhood. It will always be the day that changed my life, and lots of other peoples lives, forever. But it is also the day that Dan stood before Jesus and heard him say, "Well done." The day that Dan got his angel wings, and any physical or emotional pain left his body. The day that his family and I all gained a guardian angel. The day that we all learned how short and fleeting life can be.
If I have learned anything about myself in the past nine years, it is that family and friends are everything. No amount of money, possessions, or fame can replace the love and support of the ones we hold dear. I have learned that I am stronger than I thought I was. I have learned about true love and acceptance from my Johnson family, who continue to love and support me almost a decade later. I have a blessed life; a wonderful fiancé, and two amazing little girls. But I will always honor Dan. Always. And it's not all golf tournaments and BBQ's. It's living life every day as Dan did. With integrity, bravery and a love for God. It's teaching my kids about Dan. It's teaching them what it means to put other's before themselves, as Dan did. I will continue to honor Dan for the rest of my life. And I will always be the proud widow of Senior Airman Daniel James Johnson.
I have written multiple blogs about this day. About how my Dad had to come to work and tell me that Dan had died, since I wasn't home to receive the dreaded knock on the door. About how I had to tell Dan's best friend and Father that he was gone. About how I literally went into a dream like fog while planning his funeral; staring at pictures of caskets and headstones. It is still a time that seems so vivid and painful, but also like I was watching someone else experience it. It's hard to put into words. And like I have also written before, there is no widow handbook. Nothing that tells you what to do, or how to do it. You are in survival mode. Nothing prepares you for walking through a cold, dewy cemetery, picking out where Dan will be laid to rest. And absolutely nothing prepares you for the hefty and intense decisions that get thrown at your during that time; especially when it is a military death.
With all of that said, there were some beautiful moments that transpired during those first few days following Dan's death. I think the first time I laughed out loud is when I went to the airport to pick up some of Dan's family, and his little brother Erik took one look at me and said, "So this is what you look like without make up on." The first words out of his mouth. And I needed that laugh so badly. I was surround by three beautiful babies the entire time; my nephews Gracin and Carter, and tiny Madeline Joy. Those three kept us smiling, and were a nice distraction at times. And the stories. We sat around and told so many Dan stories, that he would have probably been upset. Stories from his childhood, high school, his military life, and his life as a Husband. We laughed. We cried. We talked about him. Constantly. And that is what saved me. Hearing so many people with his name on their lips. Being around his family; especially his brothers. They have his eyes. His laugh. I felt so close to Dan, and still do, when I am around his family. And perhaps the most beautiful and painful moments were the military funeral and burial. It was such a beautiful, humbling, and honorable thing to be a part of. From TAPS being played, to the 21-gun salute, it was something to be seen. The streets to and from the Air Force base were lined with people. Workers. Students. Families. All holding signs and paying their respects to Dan.
And of course there we some embarrassing and silly moments too. Reading his autopsy report and having them list, "One mustache" as part of his physical description. He sure loved that big ol' stache. Having my family politely tell me that it was finally time to shower and change out of my Victoria Secret sweats. Watching all of my friends help grade my sisters papers for her students so that she could be around to help out. And requesting that everybody change to a bright color following the funeral. No idea why I did that. I guess black was too much for me that day? Crazy widow stuff.
Bottom line, October 5th will always suck for me. It will always be the day that I lost Dan. It will always be the day I joined the widowhood. It will always be the day that changed my life, and lots of other peoples lives, forever. But it is also the day that Dan stood before Jesus and heard him say, "Well done." The day that Dan got his angel wings, and any physical or emotional pain left his body. The day that his family and I all gained a guardian angel. The day that we all learned how short and fleeting life can be.
If I have learned anything about myself in the past nine years, it is that family and friends are everything. No amount of money, possessions, or fame can replace the love and support of the ones we hold dear. I have learned that I am stronger than I thought I was. I have learned about true love and acceptance from my Johnson family, who continue to love and support me almost a decade later. I have a blessed life; a wonderful fiancé, and two amazing little girls. But I will always honor Dan. Always. And it's not all golf tournaments and BBQ's. It's living life every day as Dan did. With integrity, bravery and a love for God. It's teaching my kids about Dan. It's teaching them what it means to put other's before themselves, as Dan did. I will continue to honor Dan for the rest of my life. And I will always be the proud widow of Senior Airman Daniel James Johnson.
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