Stay Safe: Chapter Eight
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.
The Dignified Transfer of Remains
A mere four days after the unexpected news that Rob had died, we attended the ceremony for the "Dignified Transfer of Remains." It seemed too soon to be dealing with "remains." It was a long, hot, painful day. I had no idea that I would be so impacted by the sheer number of men that were brought back.That morning, we gathered in the lobby and were greeted by Rob’s girlfriend, K., her mom, her dad, her sister, her brother-in-law and her best friend. I realized then that we need not worry about her support system and who is going to take care of her. Her family and friends outnumbered ours, by a lot. In fact, I was a little self-conscious about it. Especially since we were told we could only bring three people. Although, truthfully, I don't know who else we would have brought with us. The group of us there for Rob took over a corner of the Hilton Garden Inn where we were staying, covering the couches, chairs and sitting on fireplace ledge. It was my first time to meet K.’s mom and dad, and I hadn’t spent much time with her sister, brother-in-law or best friend, though I had met them all at least once in the years past. It was an awkward situation in which to get to know someone; people thrust together in a horrible situation. Rob knew each of us so well, yet we didn’t know each other. K.’s brother-in-law was quiet and brooding, yet came across as kind. He was a bomb technician with the SEAL teams. And her sister seemed like she kept everybody in line and together. She took charge and came across as empathetic, and I liked those qualities. With Rob as our only known commonality, we each shared stories about him. While the group sat around and talked and told stories, we were notified of the ceremony start time and it looked like we would not be able to make our scheduled flight that afternoon. I spent the next two hours on the phone trying to rearrange our flight schedule in hopes of still getting us home that night. I didn’t want to be in a strange city another night. I wanted the comfort of being around people I knew back in Shreveport where we were surround by friends and family, not the strangers that belonged to the other men who died with Rob. They were all still strangers at that point and though I would come to know some of them better in the coming months, it would never be a comfortable relationship.The lobby of the hotel where we were waiting was full of grieving families. The only familiar face I saw was Jonas’s wife across the lobby, but didn’t talk with her. I had only met her once on a previous visit to Virginia with Rob and she looked pretty surrounded by friends and family. Jonas was also from Shreveport and was a good friend in our high school years: he played soccer with Rob, dated Crista, and spent much time around our kitchen table. Jonas was such a little guy in high school. I remember meeting him our freshman year in high school and thinking that he was always up to something that would get me in trouble. It was the devious look and sly grin that were constantly on his face. But Crista was instantly smitten and Jonas was an important part of my high school memories. I didn’t know much about his wife other than that he met her in college. When I met her the first time, I was visiting Rob in Virginia Beach and we were at a party together. It was only a brief meeting. I would get to know her better in the coming months. The fact that two men from Shreveport made it to the same SEAL team was unusual; the fact that they both died on the same helicopter was unbelievable.There were no later flights, so I began to accept the fact that we were going to be spending another night in Dover. While I was on the phone working the commercial flights, Jon-Christian was on the phone trying to find a private pilot to come to get us that night, but to no avail.Although I was on the phone, I was able to listen in on some of the conversations and stories about Rob. K.’s stories gave indication of Rob’s dedication and support to her: he was going to buy her a car when he got back because hers died and they had been sharing his; she did all the yard work so he bought her a lawn mower and a weed eater; he had just bought her a dining room table but didn't know that the chairs didn't come with it so she only had a table. The stories were abundant. And they were funny because I could hear Rob in them, doing these things, being silly and being sweet, just being himself. She consistently referred to Rob’s house as "hers." I stood there confused and not sure how I was supposed to react to these statements that appeared to me as if they were intended to make a case to me and Dad about the relationship Rob had with K. This was probably not her or her family’s intention, but it was what I was feeling at the time, my perspective being skewed by grief and a general sense of being overwhelmed. Hearing things I didn’t know about my brother and realizing there were parts of his life that I wasn’t a part of was hard to process. If I wasn’t clouded by my emotions, I would have heard the love Rob had for K. right then.I just wanted to grieve and be left alone and go my own way and not have to deal with all that Rob left behind. But that was not going to be possible, I saw that at that moment. I was not ungrateful for K.’s love and support of Rob. I was just frustrated that I couldn’t curl up in a ball and cry for the next six months like I really wanted to. Instead, I realized I was going to have to approach Rob’s death in a business-like manner; I don't think that Dad was thinking clearly yet either and it seemed like we had a lot of people pulling on us to start settling Rob’s affairs. Whining about that responsibility wasn’t going to make it go away, so I moved my emotions to that compartment in my brain where I was storing them for a bit longer.When it was time to leave, we loaded up in our rented SUV and were immediately told that no personal vehicles were being allowed on the base, which was completely opposite of what we had just been told. We then lined up to wait for the buses that were scheduled to take all family members to the base. They loaded all 250 or so family members on these buses and hauled us over the base where we are deposited in a reception room to talk with each other and talk to Navy personnel. The bus ride was a quiet one as it was full of strangers, all of whom had just learned that their soldier had died four days earlier.After about an hour, I noticed Secret Service starting to line the room. Then the President entered. We had heard rumor that he might be coming, but no one had said for sure and since I hadn't heard more about it, I had assumed that he would not be here today. But, he was. President Obama made his way around the room and Dad and I each got to personally shake hands and talk with him. He spoke to every single person in the room. It was amazing. I hate that my getting to meet him was under these circumstances. But he was kind and compassionate. And tall with soft hands. I appreciated his being there.We also met and talked with the new Secretary of Defense, Leon Panetta. I think Dad was really impressed with him. He told Dad that "the sons-of-bitches got a lucky shot and we are going to get them for it." This is the kind of stuff that Dad liked and needed to hear. I noticed Panetta had an ear hair problem. Jon-Christian noticed that Panetta missed a spot shaving. We laughed a little about these odd things that we noticed, comic relief being the only thing that got us through that day, I think.A man came up to us and introduced himself to us in that reception room. He told us that he had just accompanied "the boys" back on the C-130s. I eventually understood this to mean the bodies. He talked to us about Rob and how he had just spoken to him the morning of the helicopter crash. He seemed like a genuinely kind man who was struggling to process this tragedy. Further interactions with him in the coming months would prove my initial assessment wrong, but we were all dealing with the tragic loss in our own ways. I tried to keep that in mind and forgive inappropriate behavior around and toward us, and hoped others would do the same for me. It was interesting how I had the inclination to trust people that presented as Rob’s friends; in this case, the man was not supportive of our family, attacked Dad through email for honoring Rob in Shreveport and stole some of Rob’s possessions.After the President worked his way around the room, we were loaded back on the buses and taken to the hangar where the actual transfer ceremony happened. The hangar doors were open and there was a large aircraft backed up to the hanger. We could see the flag-draped caskets aboard the plane. There was a red carpet running from the plane to the back of an open white van, outfitted to hold six caskets. On one side of the carpet were rows and rows of metal folding chairs for the families. On the other side were rows and rows of folding chairs with servicemen and women. It was very quiet in the hangar. No one said a word as we filed into the rows of folding chairs. We made our way to a second row seat; Dad always wants to be front and center. Bless Jon-Christian for having to take part in this event. I think this was perhaps more than he bargained for in his friendship with Rob. He actually leaned over at one point and said, “Your brother is sitting somewhere laughing at the fact that I am here, sweating and in a suit."The first casket was carried in and there was an audible gasp in the hangar, followed by sobs echoing throughout. The audio in the hangar was terrible. We couldn't understand a damn word being said through the microphone. Every sound made reverberated from the metal walls. I was shaking and worked hard to hold my body stiff; I didn’t want to appear weak. They weren’t identifying any of the bodies; we didn’t know which casket Rob was in. Most of the three and a half hour ceremony was silent except for the calls-to-arm for each of the fallen soldiers. That is how long it took to respectfully bring in each of the fallen 38 men: three and a half hours. It was a long afternoon of crying, sweating and sore feet. And the President was there for every minute of it, standing just like the rest of us on that hard concrete floor, sweating. There was no media, no one was taking pictures or live-tweeting the event; he wasn’t there for the publicity.There were so many men it took two planes to get them all home. We took a 30-minute intermission so they could move the planes to allow the next round of bodies though the hangar door. An intermission, at a dignified transfer of remains. Even if I had been told exactly what was going to happen, I could have never prepared myself for a day like that day. And then when it was over, there was nothing to say. We walked out silently and solemnly.They loaded us back on buses to take us to a reception area for food and speeches from "the brass." I stayed in the bus with Jon-Christian; I was tired, my feet hurt and just didn't think I could take any more of this group sadness among strangers. Sitting in the front row of the bus, waiting, we talked about how much he loved his wife and how happy he was with her. He sounded so much like a newlywed, but I was genuinely happy for him. He and Leslie really were the perfect match. I had known Leslie since she was born, but I got to know her well once she and Jon-Christian got married. She is funny and kind and can play off Jon-Christian’s storytelling to make those stories even better. I wondered why he was sharing this with me now, but I assumed it was because he was missing her and thinking about her. Looking back, perhaps he felt the need to justify his getting married to me as a way of justifying it to Rob, given his thoughts—that he was not shy to express—on the subject of marriage. I don't know. But, I enjoyed the company and the conversation. And sitting there listening to him, I wondered if I would ever have that kind of love, feel that way, for someone else. I thought maybe R., the man I was currently involved with, could be that person to me; I certainly felt strongly connected to him, in a way that I have never felt before.Jon-Christian and I talked about the people around us, the fresh tattoos we spotted, the senile grandmother talking to herself, basically we talked about anything but the reason that we found ourselves on this bus. My feet hurt. We talked about shoes and my love for shoes, including the four-inch heels I had just stood in for hours. He made me laugh, as he always did and his friendship helped me through that day.Back at the hotel, we changed clothes and met in the lobby to go to dinner. K. and her mom had already left with the command flight, but we ran into her dad, sister, friend and father's friends in the lobby. Once again, the not-so-subtle comments were shared about Rob’s relationship with K.: “We don't want her worrying about money, so we will pay for whatever travel is needed." This kind of conversation was making me uncomfortable. They weren't married. They weren't engaged. Rob was adamant to us about not going down that path with her, specifically. I know he loved her. But I also know that he wanted her to be able to take care of herself and didn't want someone dependent on him. Rob and I had so many conversations about that.We ate dinner at the same place as the night before. I wanted to go someplace different. Dad liked the place before, so why not go there again? So we did. We knew how to get there and what was on the menu. It was predictable after a day that we could have never predicted. All four of us drank too much. Because that is what we did when we were uncomfortable and dealing with stress and wanting to avoid precisely what we don’t need to avoid.The conversation was good, but teetered on the edge of inappropriate. I can't remember who brought it up, probably me, but we began the conversation about Dad's many girlfriends. I said I knew of three, and he was surprised. When I named them off, he was actually impressed. "At what point did you think I was stupid?” was my response. He did say that there were more like five or six women in his life, but he was still impressed that I was able to name the three that I knew about. And they seemed to be the most prevalent in his life. I don’t really believe that there are more than those three. I asked Dad what he was going to do when they all converged on Shreveport to console him during his son's memorial service."That is actually a real problem that I am trying to figure out how to solve." He said it with a smile.I put my head down on the table in frustration and disbelief, and to stifle my laughter. I was not comfortable yet with my dad having girlfriends; I still cried over the loss of my mom. And those girlfriends that I had met, I didn’t particularly care for much. To think of Dad trying to figure out how to manage them all at a funeral for his son seemed so ridiculous that it was funny.
Rob wasn’t ever around to interact with Dad’s girlfriends, but I would call him and talk about them and express my disappointment and frustration. Rob always dismissed my concerns and said not to worry about it. I admonished him for not understanding as I had to worry about it since I was the one that had to interact with them. Still, he paid me no mind. That is, until the last Christmas we were together. He arrived in Shreveport a couple of days before I did. Rob was greeted at the airport by Dad and his current girlfriend. For the next two days, she was with them wherever they went and whatever they were doing. By the time I arrived in Shreveport, Rob was trembling with anxiety because he was so uncomfortable around her. Unsympathetically, I responded with, “I told you so.”The next few days of that Christmas trip were more of the same: she was constantly there, working too hard to make Rob and me like her. At one point she insisted Rob don his jacket so she could use the lint brush to get the dog hair off it. The dog hair was only on the jacket because she kept wearing it to go outside to smoke and would place it on the back of the kitchen chair nearest the back door where my dogs would brush past it as they went inside and out. Using the lint roller, she stroked Rob’s arm and told him that she was a good mother and could be a good mother to him. He was even more uncomfortable. Then later that night, she really wanted to take us to dinner at the restaurant in the casino where she worked. We really wanted to order pizza and sit on the couch, but Rob and I were raised to be polite and we agreed to join her for dinner.We were all uncomfortable—Dad, his girlfriend, Rob and me—and had been drinking to ease some of the discomfort. Because of this, Dad’s girlfriend miscounted the number for dinner and we were seated at a table for eight when there were only four of us. After insisting on what we should order and practically forcing us to eat appetizers, we were waiting for our next course to arrive when I saw Dad take his spoon, dip it into the butter dish, extract a spoonful of butter and eat it. I lost my composure and laughed until I cried, which got Rob started with laughter too. We laughed while Dad and his girlfriend stared at us not understanding what had just happened.After that Christmas, Rob started listening to and understanding my point-of-view about the girlfriends in Dad’s life. I wasn’t looking forward to having multiples of them in the house at the same time for Rob’s memorial service later that week.
Our storytelling wound down as our exhaustion from the day set in. We made it back to the hotel safely and quietly. And we all agreed to meet in the lobby at 5:15 in the morning to head to the airport.I finished Rob’s obituary that night after having a few trusted friends read through it. Though I am not confident it did him justice, I think it captured his essence.
Read other chapters of this book.
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