Stay Safe: Chapter Eleven

Stay Safe Book

Aug 14

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 starting August 5th as we mark the fourth anniversary of life without him.

Arrivals

While I was in Little Rock, I took advantage of the fact that no one knew I was there and got pedicure and had my hair done, because these things were relaxing and I was about to see everyone from my entire life in the coming days. I did have to have a painful conversation with Dad and Wanda, my godmother and mom’s best friend from college: she suggested that we video record the service for those that can't be there and for posterity, I guess. Dad agreed to this and she was just letting me know as an FYI. I nearly came unglued. Dad and I had talked about it just the day before and had agreed no video and he just went whatever direction was put in front of him that day. I threw a bit of a fit, regrettably looking back on it now. But I couldn’t imagine the pain of watching the memorial service over and over again. And I thought it would be undignified to have a video of a memorial service. This was the first time that I had overreacted since we had started planning. As it turns out, the Navy was recording the whole thing anyway and we had it on video regardless of my initial feelings on the subject.I drove back to Shreveport in the early afternoon on Thursday and was greeted by our family from Kansas City: my mom’s sister Michelle, her husband Bill and their teenage son John. There was still a constant parade of people through the house during the afternoon and into the evening. My dogs Betty and Blanche finally found an escape route out of Dad's backyard, which caused a bit of excitement in the late afternoon. Luckily, they stuck together and the person that found them also had a black and yellow lab he could corral them into the backyard with. I am particularly proud that my two dogs stuck together like siblings on this little adventure; I didn't even mind that they had wandered off once I knew they were together, taking care of each other, as siblings do.Friday morning, I woke up feeling sick. My body was worn out with the schedule of the past couple of weeks and the stress of everything. The consensus in the house was that I needed a prescription to knock it out. I called Jon-Christian, a dentist, and he being, in his words "two-thirds of a doctor," was able to prescribe something to help. Bethard was so good as to pick it up, though she had to go three times because I had never gotten a prescription from that pharmacy and had to work out insurance, she did it with a smile.Bethard was pregnant again. We were all so excited for her. It was still early and she wasn’t yet showing, but she wanted to let us know. She had to be exhausted from keeping up with her young son and being newly pregnant, but she never let it show. Bethard was making us laugh and kept everyone entertained with her stellar and dramatic storytelling abilities. I’ve known Bethard since we were small children; she is the first real friend I ever had and she is still a best friend today. When Mom was in and out of the hospital for the year after her wreck, I spent a lot of time with Bethard and her family, the Hearnes, even joining the family vacation riding in the back of the station wagon, tying friendship bracelets and laughing at passing cars. Bethard was a bridesmaid in my wedding and a dynamic personality I know I will always have in my life. She and Rob always had a special bond of which I was jealous, so I knew she was hurting badly but she was showing as strong for us. When her second child was born nine months later, she named him Reeves in honor of my brother and my family. I was moved to tears.We worked on getting the house ready for the stream of people expected that night and the next day. Our Shreveport ladies took over the house. Lettie (my parents were the godparents to her youngest daughter), Melinda (her husband was Mom’s doctor and she is mom to Leslie—Jon Christian’s wife), Suzanne (Bethard’s mom), Nan (Jon-Christian’s mom), they were all there and in charge. In shorts, t-shirts and almost matching visors, they were sweating their asses off cleaning the house, moving furniture, rearranging stuff and getting the fridge ready. The were doing all the labor themselves, while the rest of us, including several strong Navy boys, just stood around and watched in awe. I had never seen anything like it, or felt so helpless, or felt more appreciative.A group of Rob’s teammates arrived Friday, less than a week since Rob died. I got to meet one of his roommates, Nate, for the first time. I had heard so much about him over the years, it was good to finally meet him. Rob used to talk about Nate and his girlfriends, a few of which became wives and the drama they brought with them into Rob’s house. Nate was handsome, kind and quiet. His arms were covered in tribal tattoos that were intriguing. I asked about them and he told me the story, but I can’t remember it now other than they had a meaning significant to his life. Because he lived with Rob for many years and I had heard so many stories about him, I instantly felt close to Nate. He and a couple of others came in on a private flight and brought big poster photos of Rob for us to display at the reception. We spread out around our living room. It was both weird and nice to see Rob’s big face every direction I turned.I started meeting so many of the guys as they were coming, that I had trouble remembering all their names. In the coming months, when I would be around the guys and introduced myself, I would tag on an apology should it be required if we had already met. One of Rob’s Navy friends that is no longer in the Navy, Al., showed up and was a large personality. He was the kind of guy that made sure you knew when he entered the room and had a flair for storytelling. Several of the guys were staying at Jon-Christian’s house down the street.My godmother Wanda showed up this day, too. I can't remember why her husband George wasn’t there, but I know she said he was sick about the fact that he couldn't be there. She stayed at the house with us.We met with the assigned Navy public affairs representatives that day. And the FBI representative. And the Shreveport police lieutenant. Apparently there was some organization that likes to protest military funerals as a way of saying that the fallen solider deserved to die. This team was preparing for them to show up at Rob’s service; though the consensus was that this group would not show, they were taking all the necessary precautions to keep them far away from the church, should they arrive (they did not). Several of the Navy SEAL team guys went to the church to understand the layout and check security. I heard several different groups of them say this; they each wanted to check it out for themselves even though other teammates had already been there. And some of them went twice. While the fact that they were so worried and careful should have been scary to me, it was not. I was comforted by their attention to detail and knew that we would be safe. That someone or a group would protest a funeral also seemed like a preposterous idea to me.The media was another story entirely. We had been called by the media almost constantly since that Saturday of the notification. It was a bizarre experience. We were refusing to talk to them in an effort to maintain some semblance of privacy and we just didn’t know what we could say to them at this point. We were busy working to plan the memorial service and be with family arriving in town. The media seemed like something unnecessary to have to deal with. I understood the appeal of the story, but I wasn’t comfortable talking about Rob on camera because I didn’t think I could maintain composure. But they were persistent; at one point, a television reporter opened the front door to Dad’s house, without any identification showing he was with the media. The house was full, but Mindy was in the front room and asked if she could help him. With a couple of questions, he revealed he was with a news station and Mindy immediately asked for the SEALs to escort him outside. Brazen on his part.Temporarily shut out by us, the media talked to neighbors who never met Rob and soccer teammates from many, many years ago and our high school teachers. I was furious about this. I did not understand why any of these people thought they had a right or enough knowledge to talk about Rob, but I guess everyone needs their 15 minutes of fame. Dad eventually relented and granted an interview with one reporter of his choosing, a former military man prior to becoming a news anchor. But we limited access other than that. We met with the Navy public affairs officers to discuss how to deal with the media at the memorial service; we decided to formally invite the media to the service for a briefing outside as a way to provide them the information they wanted without them attending to the service. They were held outside and given official information only. Additionally, we had to make an announcement requesting that no one take photos or video during the service. This seemed so ridiculous, but it was better than seeing unsanctioned photos of Rob’s memorial service in the paper the next day. Though the official Navy photographer—in uniform—was there taking photos.That Friday night was like a big house party-slash-visitation. So many people. From the Navy. From my office. From Dad’s office. From Little Rock. Family we never, ever see. From our past. People I didn't know who swear they knew Rob and told tales of him having a great impact on their lives. It was all so surreal. And I felt like I had to put on the perfect hostess face and be gracious and comfort all those that come crying through our door. But we had a party and actually ran out of beer. There was a guy from the Navy who was acting as the bartender and ladies were fluttering through the kitchen making sure food was out, warm and available. That is how we do death in the South: an excuse for a party, a celebration of life and a desire to be together.Late that night, K., her mom and a Navy guy, C., who was escorting them arrived at the house. It was pretty late and most everyone had gone home and those that were still here were pretty drunk. Including our Kansas City family. My teenage cousin John was going to drive them back to the hotel. John had turned out to be a really good kid. So mature and good natured. Rob would have been proud of him. Rob and John had been close, and Rob looked out for him like a big brother. John’s older brother Sam died with Sam was 13 and John was just a little boy. Rob came home from a deployment to be a pallbearer at Sam’s funeral. He had been protective of John ever since then.I didn’t know the guy escorting K., but he was very protective of her. I sat outside on the patio and talked to him for a bit. He was the first of Rob’s teammates that made me feel uncomfortable. Everyone else had seemed genuine. K. and her mom stayed at Jon-Christian’s parents’ house that night.Before K., her mom and C. left and before we all went to bed, my friend from New Orleans, R., arrived. I hadn’t really told anyone about this man that I had fallen for. I had been waiting, but had alluded it to it in my last email last to Rob as he was always able to give me good advice and I really wanted to talk to him about R. I wanted Rob to meet him and to like him.Though R. hadn’t met anyone in my life and I hadn’t met anyone in his, I wrote to him and asked if he would attend the service, to be there with me on that day that I knew would be hard. He wrote back that he was planning to attend, I didn’t need to ask him too. This only confirmed the feelings I had for him.He arrived very late Friday night. He met Dad that night and talked with him a bit at the kitchen table, though I don’t think that Dad remembered meeting him because he never asked about R. again. It was a late night, Dad was tired and it had been a long day. I insisted that R. stay at Dad’s house with me. He reluctantly agreed and slept with me in my childhood bedroom that night.

Read other chapters of this book.

ereeves