It Was So Hard

This is a true story.  Only the names of the soldier, his wife and child have been changed. (Note: this is the first draft-constuctive critisism is very welcomed!)

It had been a pretty oridinary day. I'd had a few real estate closings that morning but nothing scheduled for the afternoon.  I had been catching up on housework and running a few errands, making sure to be home when the school bus dropped my two youngest children off.

I was sitting at the computer working on the billing statements I needed to send out to my clients when I heard the bus pull up.  I quickly finished what I was doing and shut the program down as my 10 year old son, Dakota, came through the door. I started to ask him how his day was when he said, "Michaela's crying!" 
"Why?" I asked.
"I don't know, she won't tell me." he replied.
I went out onto the deck to meet my 8 year old daughter. She had tears streaming down her face and when she spotted me she dropped her back pack and screamed, "Mommy!"
I knelt down and caught her in my arms.  "What's wrong baby?" I asked.
In between heart rendering sobs she told me. "Jesse's Daddy died!"
Jesse was her very best friend.  "What do you mean he died?" I asked, concerned.
"He was killed by a roadside bomb." she explained.  She picked up her back pack and dug around in it.  She brought me the paper explaining that a classmates Dad had been killed in Iraq over the weekend. The school had grief counselors on hand throughout the day to help the children deal with it.  I knew a number of the kids had a parent either already deployed to Iraq or soon scheduled to deploy.  My heart went out to those children for the fear they must be feeling.

I had known that Jesse's daddy, Sam was in Iraq, he was a Ranger, scheduled to come home in September. To make matters even worse, he was killed the day after Jesse's 8th birthday.

I comforted my daughter as best I could.  Once she'd gone to bed, I got on the computer to see if there had been a mission request for Sam yet. All that was listed was that there was a mission pending. 

I checked everyday and finally on the third day there it was, Mission confirmed for Staff Sgt. Samuel P. Smith. Actually it listed three missions for this young soldier.
The first was to meet the jet at the airfield and escort the body to the funeral home, then the family requested our presence at the funeral home to escort the body to the army base and attend the funeral, the third was a memorial service for the men and women stationed on base to attend, for Sam and the other two soldiers that were killed with him.  I told my husband about the missions and he decided to take a day off work for the actual funeral, but he couldn't make the other two, I would have to represent both of us for those.

The morning of the first mission dawned clear and bright. The temperature was supposed to hit 60, not bad for a February day in Colorado.  I got up early and dressed in layers, I had decided to ride my bike instead of take the Expedition, and even though it would be warmer later in the day, the temerature was hovering at 38 for the ride north.  I finished dressing with my final layer of leather, got the bike out and let it warm up while I had a last cup of coffee.

I met the other riders at a convience store just off the interstate. We left at 7 am and headed to Colorado Springs.  We got to the airfield and went through all the security precautions that allowed us access to the tarmac where the private jet would land.  The family was already there as well as several soldiers from Fort Carson. We formed our flag line and waited for the jet to land.  When the jet stopped, the hearse pulled into position and 6 young soldiers strode forward in perfect formation.  The door opened and a flag covered box came into view.

I glanced at Sam's wife, Lizbeth, standing so proud and trying to be strong for her young son. A second glance revealed the tears streaming down her face as the body of her husband was lowered to the ground.  My eyes were burning with the effort to hold my tears in check.  I looked at little Jesse and my heart broke right in two.  He was trying so hard to be brave. I wanted to tell them, "go ahead and cry! You have every right!", but I stayed silent.

Once the box was placed into the hearse, we mounted our bikes and prepared for escort.  The LEO's (Law Enforcement Officers) were already in place and would hold back traffic until we all reached the funeral home. 

As the procession moved through the streets of Colorado Springs I was amazed by the number of cars that pulled to the side, some even stepped out and stood with their hands covering their hearts, an amazing show of support for this young family. 
People stopped on the sidewalks and people flowed from shops to stand and honor this young hero.  I was having a really hard time concentrating on driving as I had to keep wiping at the tears streaming down my face and fogging up my sunglasses.

We escorted him to the funeral home and before dispursing we all thanked the LEO's for thier support and the wonderful job they always do with traffic control for us.

On the day of the funeral we arrived at the funeral home about an hour early.  I decided I'd better find a bathroom before we began this escort.  When  I came out of the funeral home, Lizbeth and Jesse had just arrived and were getting out of thier truck. Lizbeth looked at me with tears in her eyes and whispered, "Thank You!". Of course I could feel my own waterworks beginning then. All I could say is "You are very welcome. It's the least I can do."  I turned to Jesse and asked how he was, recognition dawned in his eyes, "Mom! This is Michaela's Mom!" he ran to me and I knelt on the ground to accept his hug. As I looked at Lizbeth over his shoulder,  we were both crying.

We escorted Sam to Ft. Carson. This time I could allow the tears to flow freely as we rode through downtown. We had brought my husband's big bike and I was riding passenger, (which isn't the word used, but a G rated version).  Again we were greeted along the way with people stopping to lay their hands over thier hearts, vets that stood at attention and saluted and saluting current members of the Army and Air Force that were stationed nearby.  It was a very moving moment in time.

During the funeral, we sat at the back of the chapel, 60 bikers passing around a packet of kleenex,  stiffling tears for a young man that 58 of them never even knew. That's a site that's hard to forget.

After the funeral, I was waiting to sign the guest book as the coffin was loaded into the hearse.  I could hear a commotion outside and glanced through the open doorway. The scene before broke my heart.  Jesse was struggling to get loose and get to his Dad's coffin, screaming as loud as he could, "I want my Dad! I want my Dad!,,," at that point I had to find the bathroom so I could sob in private. It tore me in two to witness this scene. It's something I will never forget.

I took the Expedition to the final memorial service.  As we stood outside the gates of Ft. Carson waiting for permission to enter, soldier after soldier pulled into the parking lot, they got out of their cars and went around shaking all of our hands, most just wanted to say thanks for what we do, others went further in depth to express their thanks and to tell us that a lot of the troops were suffering from low morale, and that when they saw us here and read about other riders all over the U.S. it provided a much needed morale boost. We explained that we do it simply because we owe these boys our utmost respect and it's the right thing to do. Staff Sgt Smith and many others gave thier all, they deserve a hero's welcome home.

Michaela and Jesse are still best friends, and I have become friends with Lizbeth. It's still only been a few months and things are still hard for her.  I am happy to provide a shoulder for her to cry on  and take Jesse now and again to give her a break, it causes me no hardship.  Jesse is having a very hard time. Lots of anger issues.  I got a call from the school one day just before the end of the school year, the principal wanted to see me about Michaela. I couldn't figure out what was going on, she never gets in trouble at school. 

I met with the principal and she told me that Michaela had injured 3 of the boys in her class. I'm thinking "What!?".  Then she tells me what happened.  It appears that Jesse had been having some problems with 3 boys that would corner him on the playground and tease him about being a crybaby and say things like 'I'm glad your Dad died', (kids can be really cruel!). 

On this particular day they had cornered him again, Michaela got in the middle of it and pushed the first boy down, elbowed the second one in the nose, and gave a good solid kick between the legs to the third, all the while, telling them to leave Jesse alone, how would they feel if thier dad died!  She was one pissed off little girl.
I was completely shocked, I couldn't believe she did that! Then I thought about it, she was only protecting someone she cared about. An adult should have done something about the 3 bullies before now and then she wouldn't have had to take care of it for them.

I looked the principal in the eye and told her to do what ever she thought fair as punishment, but to remember that had a staff member  taken care of the problem, Michaela would'nt have had to. I also explained that Michaela would not be punished at home for this. The teachers and staff had been told of this problem several times and had done nothing. I'm not one for violence, but in this situation I felt it was justified, and she would not be punished.

Apparently after the principal discussed everything with the parents of the 3 boys, surprisingly enough, they agreed. Michaela realizes this is not a normally acceptable way to deal with any situation and has promised it won't happen again.

This was the hardest ride I've ever done. I've done many rides before and since,standing for hours holding a flag in the freezing weather, rain and snow.  Why do I subject myself to something so physically and emotionally draining? Because....it's the right thing to do.