Stay Safe: Chapter Seven
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 starting August 5th as we mark the fourth anniversary of life without him.
I started working on Rob’s obituary on Monday, day three since notification of his death. I wrote Mom’s obituary, too, five years ago. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do and I never felt like it did her justice. Writing Rob’s was just as hard, if not harder, and I put a lot more more pressure on myself for it to be absolutely perfect.
To Dover
Our trip to Dover that Monday morning started at the Shreveport airport, a small and sad little airport for a city the size of Shreveport. Immediately, we learned that our flight was delayed by an hour, so we had plenty of time to sit around and talk. Dad stayed on his phone away from us most of the time. So, we told stories about Rob. There were so many of them. At one point, Jerritt told me that he realized the day before how similar Rob’s personality was to mine. I had said something sarcastic and dry and somewhat shocking yesterday (he couldn't remember what but my guess is that it was when I said at least I wouldn’t have to fight Rob for the kitchen table one day) and it was at that point he realized he needed to shift his thinking and look at me like I was Rob when I was talking. He also asked again if we were planning to help K. out since she wasn't part of Rob’s official will.My response: "We don't intend to be assholes. But there was a reason that Rob never got married." What is that they wanted us to do? What is that Rob would want us to do? He had been caring for K., but would he want us to continue financially supporting her? We didn’t know what we could do at this point. And why were we getting this pressure right now?The first leg of the flight was rocky on a plane with a malfunctioning air conditioner in the Louisiana August heat. Both people next to me spilled their drinks on themselves. I caught a glimpse of Rob’s picture in USA Today that a woman in front of me was reading.We had a several hour layover in Houston. It was at this point that I received the message from my agency offering to create a video for Rob’s service and asked that I start uploading photos. With only my iPad available, I started uploading photos one at a time. Rob would have been so proud of the technological prowess I displayed; no one else seemed to care, understand or appreciate my excitement. I know technology and how to make things happen, how to take an assignment and do it. I was in my comfort zone for this brief moment in time. I sent out the request via Facebook for other photos. Uploading Rob’s photos passed the time and gave me something to focus on. It was oddly comforting to go through these photos in a business-like manner to get the good ones pulled for the video.During our travels, we discussed and agreed that Jerritt and Jon-Christian would each speak at the memorial. I don't know if that is who Rob would have chosen, but they seemed like the right fit to Dad and me. I actually talked to Dad about the possibility of me speaking at the service and he didn't think that was a good idea. I think I could have done it, but I also didn’t need the extra stress at that point, so I let it go. We still needed a third speaker, but I wasn't sure who to ask. I asked Jerritt if he thought there was anyone from the teams that might want to speak. He agreed to check on it for me.We landed in Philadelphia on time. Jon-Christian’s bag didn't make it, naturally. But he had carried on his suit for the next day, so even if it hadn’t shown up, he would have looked decent at the ceremony. We made it to the hotel and the trip there was uneventful. After checking in to the hotel, we set out to find food. Not desiring a generic Applebee’s or Chili’s, I used the magic of technology to find an Irish pub off the beaten path with great food and drinks and view of the water. It was a pleasant evening, just the four of us. I think we were all a bit tired, so it was a pretty quiet dinner. Though Jerritt and Jon-Christian had never met, they both knew a lot about the other from stories Rob told. I think it was strange, the four of us together, but it was also strangely comforting. It was like Rob was there with us because so many different sides of him were represented between the four of us.I received a nice text from Jon-Christian after dinner that night, after we had all gone our separate ways. He asked what he could do to help and support us; I think he felt like he didn't belong in this group and at this ceremony. "I am so thankful to be with you and your father. My only concern is that I do not want to invade your time or space at any point. I know how strong you are and do not want to bother you. So if there is something you need of me, please ask because I do not want to burden you with my questions as to your well-being. You are a remarkable woman." I needed to hear this, but it also broke me down to sobs. The emotions just welled up and over. What a good man he turned out to be. I was glad that Rob had him as a friend and support i his life. There is no other person that should be with us on this trip.K. was due to arrive later that night, but I just didn’t think I was up for that greeting yet. I was tired and emotionally drained. The schedule for the next day had not yet been determined, but I knew we would see her then.I was dreading the “Dignified Transfer of remains” ceremony the next day. I had no idea what to expect and I was worried that seeing a casket would make all of this too real. All this worry kept the night a sleepless one.Read other chapters of this book.© 2015 Emily Reeves Dean and msadverthinker.com. All Rights Reserved.