“But, for some, it wasn’t, and it won’t be for a while. And for those, I pray. After my dad passed, everything was a struggle. I’d get dressed and wonder why. I’d go to put my makeup on and feel like a self-obsessed idiot. What was the point of wearing mascara? How could I care how I look at a time like this? I was a fragile shell of the girl I was just days before. You can do better.”
“I cannot imagine what was said amongst the 9 of them when they realized their fate. The fear in their eyes, the white on their knuckles. But what I do know is when that helicopter went down on Sunday morning, NINE people walked into Heaven together. Not two.”
“One day, my kids were acting especially sassy at dinner (dare I say, like brats). I summoned our server to the table. ‘Can I get you something?’ I went into total mom mode. ‘Well, I just wanted my kids to apologize. Girls, can you tell our server you don’t know why you’re being loud and crazy, but that you really enjoy eating here and hope we can come back?’ I winked. Instant behavior upgrade followed. I’m not ‘lucky.’ I’ve been putting blood, sweat, and tears into this for years.”
“’How could I have bone cancer at age 25?!’ I called my mom immediately after, sobbing in my car. She was shocked. I was finally able to get married after delaying my wedding, but I still had persistent pain. The surgeon said, ‘We cannot be sure if some cancer was left behind.’. It taught me to cherish every day I have on this earth. Things can change in a blink of an eye.”
“We were awaiting my son Jesse’s arrival for a big celebration. Instead, the Marines met me. ‘Your son’s been killed.’ He died driving home, on the same highway, in the same state where his father died 14 years earlier. I could sense Jesse saying, ‘Okay, God, I’ll go with You, but don’t let my mama hurt.’ I immediately felt a tangible peace cover me.”
“Before I came out, Shannon and I decided to try for another baby. I got approved by the Marine Corps to begin my transition and started hormone therapy. Soon after, we announced we were pregnant. At 2 a.m., Shannon and I were getting ready to have our baby. We thought we had plenty of time. I walked into the bathroom and noticed blood in the water. She told me, ‘We aren’t going anywhere. Call 911.’ One push later, our baby slid into my arms. We were all smiles and shellshock.”
“She has so many other things she needs to be worrying about. An in-person thank you is sufficient.”
“The saddest part is, I know he wants to stop this. I’ve attended too many funerals of good kids who couldn’t win against this monster. I’ve lost my son, but there hasn’t been a funeral. He is no longer there. I can see him, yet I mourn for him every day. It hurts. I want a do over. I want a second chance to protect him from this monster. I want my son back.”
“During birth, the umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck. In order to save my life, the doctor had to act fast. My mom’s tailbone was broken. Then like any other mom, she diligently looked over my body and immediately noticed a hole above my own tailbone. The doctors told her, ‘It’s nothing to worry about.’ But at 7 days old, I had a temperature of 104 degrees. As I grew, so did the tumor. It tightly wrapped around my bladder and kidneys, slowly killing me.”
“She’s our wild child. We are at a loss when it comes to how to parent her. She has pushed me to tears with the many ways I feel I’m failing her as amother. And yet, she’s amazing. She will not and cannot bend to our will. She refuses to be anything but herself. That is the kind of strength I only wish I could find within myself.”
