Stay Safe: Chapter One

Stay Safe Book

Aug 4

Written By ereeves

What follows is a chapter from "Stay Safe: Life After Loss," a book that I wrote following the death of my brother, Robert James Reeves. Rob, only 14-months younger than me and 32 years old at the time of his death, was a Navy SEAL on the prestigious SEAL Team 6. On August 6, 2011, while on a mission in Afghanistan, he and too many of his teammates and other servicemen, lost their lives when their helicopter was shot down by enemy fire. It was the single largest loss of American life in the Afghan war. And because of the high profile nature of this event–being on the cusp of the Bin Laden mission and the number of those lost–my dad and I were part of many, many memorials and events, and the recipients of much outreach, and the point of contact for all those wanting to do something in Rob’s memory. This book chronicles the first month after his death. I am releasing a chapter a day during August as we mark the fourth anniversary of life without him.

On August 2, 2011, I sent the following email to my brother:

Rob,

I hope you get to celebrate your birthday just a little bit between the work. All is well here, although lots to catch you up on when you get back. Write if you get a chance.

Stay safe.

Emily

On August 6, 2011, I received the call notifying me of Rob's death. Rob turned 32-years old four days before his death. I hadn’t heard from him in a while, but the last time that I had talked to him he said that he was busy and didn’t really have time to write much. He asked that I still write him as he was reading the messages, but warned me that he likely wouldn’t respond. I never forgot Rob’s birthday, so I sent him a short birthday wishes email that day. Rob never forgot my birthday either; in fact, he usually had flowers sent to my office with a card that was embarrassing in some way. One year, he sent my flowers for Valentine’s Day with a card that read, “From your brother and from his heart. I love you like a brother from Louisiana should love a sister that is from Louisiana. Wait, that may have come out wrong. Happy Valentine’s Day.” It was written in handwriting from an employee of the flower shop and I can only imagine what they were thinking as they transcribed that message. I kept the card because it made me laugh, and still does.

A boy broke my heart once. I distinctly remember that precise moment when my heart broke and how every inch of my being felt as the realization set in consciously. Learning my brother had died felt this same way. It was a sickness that started in the middle of my stomach and slowly radiated out in a painful coldness. Then it stopped. In my throat. As a hard lump and then changed to heat in my face and head. And suddenly, it exploded out of my eyes and mouth as my legs gave out and my breathing seemingly stopped. This is how it has felt to me, every heartbreak and understanding of something or someone great coming to an abrupt end. And all the moments after learning Rob was gone maintained an intensity that seemed inconceivable for a human to endure. These are the things in this life that no human being should have to or be able to endure. We should die from the pain of heartbreak. But we do not. Instead, we are forced to survive, to endure it and to pretend that we can go on with life as it was before. Though life can not be like it was before: something is missing, people treat you differently and life seems to lose its purpose. This change happened in that immediate moment.

Do we lose part of our minds that make us fully aware of what's happening to us when it's happening? I think I must have. How else do we cope with great tragedy and yet appear sane? Why else would I have been calm and run my planned errands after hanging up from the heartbreaking phone call notifying me that Rob was dead? I wanted to be swallowed by the Earth, but instead went about performing mundane tasks.

Read other chapters of this book.

ereeves