Help with grief

We've gotten some really bad news today.

Ranger has lost another one of his Ranger brothers. The one he was closest to throughout his entire career in the Army before he transferred to the Air Force.

This man was wounded last year, severely, in the back. They said he'd never walk again. They said he'd be in a wheelchair forever. He started walking despite their opinions a few months later. He was doing GREAT.

We found out today that he and his wife lost their lives last week.

I don't know how to help Ranger with this. I don't know what kind of support he needs. And he can't tell me because he has PTSD and locks down when this sort of thing happens.

The couples' twin baby boys survived and are being taken by their grandparents. What we didn't know until today was that those boys had been named after the four other men that were part of the fire team. Out of five men in that fire team that went through hell together, two remain.

My Ranger is one.

He's come home from work and I don't know what to say. Sure, I can say all the things I did last time we got this news, but it's not the same. This is his best friend, the man that potentially saved his life, the one man of all of them that J wanted me to meet.

How can I help him? I know that 'all I can really do is be there for him', but that's not enough, and I hope that makes sense.

This has thrown a pipe wrench into J's recovery and PTSD therapy.

Please, if you can help...

Ang

My heart goes out to you all.... I don't think there is much one can do at such a time... except what you are doing...being there...expressing your love, care and concern.... my prayers to you all....
Cate

Ang...

Honey, I don't know what to say. You know I'm here.

I love you. And your Ranger.

S.

I know this may sound harsh to the women here, but here is my view point, as ex-military and having been in a similar situation (though not as close thank god).

Have a wake. If Ranger can get in touch with his other remaining fire team buddy, get him to come along. Celebrate the man's life, and that of his wife's. Reminisnce about all of the great times that they had together. Let him cry into his beer, get all emotional. Let him go outside and rage at the sky. But above all celebrate the memory of a dear departed friend, companion and brother. Exorcise the anger and frustration and what-ifs. Leave only the memories.

Above all, know that each brother in arm that falls is always remembered if not by the public than by his other brother's worldwide. I tonight will lift my own glass here in Mississippi, and toast the lives of a man and his wife who I did not know, yet who will be sorely missed.


Brian

Brian...

Thank you, Brian.
As soon as he got home and had sat stunned for a little while, J got on his bike and rode over to the shoppette. The man who would never touch a drop of scotch before bought a bottle to share with Jimmy tonight.

Right now, he's out on another bike ride taken to just be alone for a while.

I doubt we'll be able to find his other buddy, as he got out shortly after Bosnia. (Can I say Bosnia yet? I hope so.)

I've lost friends, more than I like to count, but this is so much deeper than that. They went to Basic and every school afterwards together. They flew to combat as five and flew home as four. Another died saving a Navy SEAL in Afghanistan. And now, of all the ways a man like this is supposed to go, he dies in a car crash. I think in many ways, this bothers J the most, simply because that's not how a soldier is supposed to go.

Jimmy's sister emailed J at work to tell him, and he forwarded the email to me before they told him to go home. I can't help but notice the stoic resolve of that woman, and I did the only thing I could think of in response -- I emailed her thanking her and asking if there was anything we could do to help with the kids. After all, they were named after J and the others.

J is taking the rest of the week off. It's going to be rough. And there will be many tears shed. But he's acknowledging this time around that he's going to need help. He knows he's shut down emotionally (boy, has he...) and he admits that Thursday will be hell, because that's his next VA appointment for his PTSD.

I think I'm going to have to write a lot this week. I feel bad because I wrote something last night that brought his combat to the forefront again when he read it. That can't have made today's news any easier.

I feel so damn helpless. I feel like anything I could have done with any other person's death won't work here. I feel like every experience I've ever had with death is working against me.

And I can't do a thing to help him.

Sheath, I know where you are. I know where I can find you, and I know that even through streams of tears I can find you in memory dial.

Brian, thank you again. I appreciate your friendship now more than ever.

Cathleen, thank you for offering your sympathy even though you don't know us.

I wish I had more skills to offer him right now.


Ang

IM so so sorry

Time can heal a lot...the bad thing is it takes so long....

Brian, that is an excellent idea. My lover's cousin died last fall, and the wake was the absolute best move we could have made. There was such a feeling of resolution and moving-forward afterwards. It was immeasurable.

God. I'm trying to think of how you can remain supportive and yet sane--PTSD isn't exactly kind to the devoted significant other, as I'm sure you know. You're nothing but smart, Ang, which I say with all confidence just from what I've read from you here. Be involved. Get him to talk it out as much as he can. I can kind of draw a parallel to Jesus: the death was immensely hard, but ultimately, the life was what was beautiful and everlasting. Hopefully J will come to accept this.

Best wishes to you and yours, dear.

From my point of view...

Another of those things few people know is that I work when needed at the local funeral home, in fact am doing one in the morning...I drive the hearse and/or limo and deal with family and help with closing the casket and all that comes with it.

From what I see and experience, each person accepts death in its own way. For some, there is a feeling of overwhelming gloom, for others gentle peace and for a few questions as to why they are the ones remaining behind.

IT is imperitive that a person is allowed to grieve in thier own way. When that process begins each person has to find that way to deal with the loss of someone and to bring closure to the situation. This can be done through many avenues and for some of us (especially in my family) one thing that brings finality to the process is for one member to stay behind after the rest of the mourners have left for the lunch and watch the grave being filled. "Remember good dirt on top". are words that my granddad gave me as a small boy and I hear them everytime I work a funeral whether I know the person or not. I guess what I am trying in my rambling to say, is to help him find a way to do something for his brother that is his own personal touch, whether that be something left in the casket (even if it is a closed service, if he asks the funeral director they will put it in the casket for him), a letter to the couple's children-which if added with photos would be a wonderful way to keep the memory alive and a great gift when the kids get older, or something else he may come up with.

For Ranger the loss of a brother is something I understand, because as a FF I know full well the true meaning behind the use of the term "brother" and all the feelings associated with the loss of one so close. Although things may improve a slight bit over the next few days, I can gaurantee that when that salute is fired and taps begin to play there will be a whole new set of emotions that can overtake him.

My advice Ang, is simply to listen without pushing for him to say something, understand without questioning and letting him have the space when he needs it, and open arms when that space is not what he needs.

To Ranger and all his brothers, I stand silently along those green slopes and offer my salute as a stranger, a Firefighter, and as a free man for thier sacrafice to duty, honor and valor. For those who give of that gift, each of us who know the peace and freedom of life are eternally greatful. Stand down weary soldier...your tour is finished. God bless you and keep you in his loving arms and mercy care.

FF

FF,
there you've gone and made me cry again.

My advice Ang, is simply to listen without pushing for him to say something, understand without questioning and letting him have the space when he needs it, and open arms when that space is not what he needs.

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This is one thing I have learned to do in the last several months as I travel with him down the PTSD treatment road.

I wish I could say that we would get the opportunity to be there for the funeral, but we were only informed today of the death in the first place, and the funeral was Saturday. I understand his sister probably hadn't had the time or presence of mind to let us know beforehand.

I think that not being able to even have the choice to attend the funeral is affecting him. I know that when that choice was taken from me, it made everything worse for me in more than one occasion.

I know J has grown and healed a lot since he started therapy. Instead of completely locking down like he did when Brad died, he has willingly initiated hugs for reassurance, TOLD me he appreciates me, and talked as much as he can get himself to.

Right now, he's purposefully drowning his pain in first person shooter games. And that's okay for tonight.

If support and unconditional love is all I can offer him, I will do that to the best of my ability.

I just wish there was more I could do.

Ang

There is a wonderful book that you can pick up that will help. The title of the book is I Wasn't Ready to Say Goodbye. My boss and dear friend gave it to those who work with her when she lost her husband of 11 months suddenly. There was much information there that allowed us to help her but also helped her cope.

If possible find out from the therapist what you should/shouldn't do, what s/he feels would be helpful/harmful. The smallest of things can act as a trigger at times, something you never suspected before.

You are right though, the best you can do is be there....hand him tissues when he cries, listen as he rages, offer water when he screams and the comfort of love when he needs it. It may not seem like much but in reality it is a priceless gift.

In my heart, soul and thoughts you will all remain.

Dawn

Grief

As another former GI from the Vietnam era I empathize with both of you. The pain of loss will remain for a long period but the losses should NOT be your focus.. Please try and think of the good things they accomplished, the people they touched, the wonderful feelings they evoked from their friends.. Remember that non of these men would want you to continue grieving, shed your tears for them, inter them and then life must go on for those that remain behind.. Their families would say the same thing, a memorial for them is a good thing even if it is only a helium balloon released to the sky, don't be afraid to write a message to them and attach it to the balloon.. It truly does help the ache and emptyness.. Feel free to email or PM if I can be of help.. Good luck brother

Re: Grief

knight88 said:

As another former GI from the Vietnam era I empathize with both of you.

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Every week, I sit in the waiting room of the VA Behavioral Health center for about an hour and a half with my son while J goes upstairs for a session.

I watch veterans come and go, and I see looks in their faces that before I met my husband I had only seen on the History Channel.

Now I have seen those looks on his face.

The thing that lifts my heart and makes me understand that healing is possible is one of the most common, simple expressions of sheer beauty I have ever seen.

Almost every week, a different person is affected by my son. He is only 20 months old but has a personality that will make him popular some day. This is how it usually happens, and is why I love to take J to these appointments. It makes me grateful for each day with my son.

We walk in and wait for a few minutes for J to go upstairs. Some days we go and play with the toys in a tiny cubby next to the stairs, but most often Alekz sits in his stroller and makes faces at the staff and other patients.

Without fail, someone with a dour, pained face will come in and sit across 'our' section of the waiting room. (It's divided into two parts) They try and try to hide behind a magazine or their hat, but eventually Alekz has worn their patience down so much by saying "Hi. Hi. Hi." and waving at them that they have to look up and respond to him. In the split second between them opening their mouth to say something to him and noise actually coming out, the expression on their face turns from a pinched negativity to a renewed awe at what love and spirituality can give a couple.

Alekz is a beautiful baby. He really is. But more than just his good looks (looks like his Dad, just reference my new av) he has a spark I've never seen before. The light in him is almost tangible. And every time I see these men (usually men at least) who have spent the last several years drowning in painful memories and crippling emotional wounds experience the epiphany that one look at my son can give them, I know why Alekz was given to J and me. Because J needs Alekz. J needs Alekz to remind him why he has been left behind when all he wants to do sometimes is follow his brothers.

These dour faced men, filled with pain and self hate and anger? On more than one occasion, they've asked if Alekz can get out of his stroller. And they've played with him on the floor. Men who, like me, rely on canes sometimes to get around. Who haven't wanted to try to move their hand in years because of the nerve damage some shrapnel caused. And they play.

The staff knows Alekz's name, but not mine. They will talk to him before they even notice that I am there. And I love that, because it tells me that my son has a bigger purpose in life than even I can fathom.

J held Alekz today, and Alekz let him. J cried into his hair and gripped him with the passion of a father afraid of leaving his son.

After what you've said, knight88, I realized that for some of these men that Alekz has touched, they've been able to let go just a little bit more than before. They've been able to see great worth in a young child's smile. And they've been able to say goodbye to someone they've held on to for decades.

This is why we have been given our son.
He is why J accepted many suggestions of therapy.

J will get through this in one piece because of his therapy and what it's taught him.

I will get through this because of what I am allowed to observe through the eyes of my son.

It will take time, yes. And it won't take any less time than it would have without the therapy. But the process will hurt less, and we will be able to celebrate our love DURING that process instead of being forced away from each other.

Now I am off to find more kleenex and put some comfort food in the oven.

Ang

First off... I want to thank you all for your kind words and encouraging thoughts. It helps. For once... I actually feel like I'm at a complete loss for words... I know i'm not, but it still feels that way. Today, I found out that the person I considered my best friend was killed in a car accident along with his wife. I can still remember their wedding day as well as I can remember mine. I can remember the day we both graduated from Ranger school, watching Jimmy bend over so our senior RI could pin the tab on his shoulder. The day we arrived at 2nd Batt. watching the look on our company commanders face when he saw the 6'8" samoan. All the bar fights he kept me out of, all the times he came and got me because I was too drunk to walk, let alone drive. The day we arrived in Tuzla, Bosnia, the night our LRS team ran through the Bosnian country side, carrying our team leaders body while being persued by Croats for well over 90 minutes. The day we were awarded our purple hearts as General Clark gave Pauls to our platoon leader to give to Pauls wife. All these memories came rushing in all at once, I cracked... lost all sense of professionalism and fell to my knees in my flight chiefs office and cried (yes Rangers cry just as good as the next person) I wanted to hit everything within arms reach, I wanted to hurt everyone I saw, and then... nothing... total numbness. I hate this feeling. Before I could walk through my front door, my wife had her arms around me... crying with me. My son ran over to me and wrapped his arms around my leg. Then sat in my lap on the couch for god knows how long. Yet still there was a general feeling of numbness thoughout my body... I love my wife and son more than anything, they both know that.

I got on my bike and rode to our heritage park... it's in the middle of the base and has a few of the jets that used to be in the wing on sticks for display. I sat there for 20 minutes... and then let out what I can only describe as a yell that was a mixture of anguish, rage and hate. It doesn't hurt yet... but when it does... I know it's not going to be pretty.

I lost my best friend... if it hadn't been for him... I would have died in Bosnia 8 years ago. He laughed when he found out I had joined the Air Force, said it would kill me not to be in a Ranger unit anymore. He was partially right. Especially when we went into Afghanistan and then again into Iraq. I was here in Idaho for both wars. He was there... with the 10th Mountain in Afghanistan with out friend Brad (another of our team from Bosnia) Brad lost his life during Operation Anaconda, when the Navy SEAL Neil Roberts fell from the back of the CH-47. And then he went to Iraq with the 101st Airborne as a Combat Medic, said he was tired of killing and wanted to save lives. He was ambushed, recieved a near fatal wound (told he would never walk again) but defended the other medics in the group by taking up the m-60 and having one medic link belts of ammunition as he shot... never taking his finger off the trigger. The barrel had melted so bad his rounds were impacting 4 feet from his position. For that, he recieved the Silver Star... which he mailed to our fallen "brother" Pauls wife. He was discharged from the Army in December, moved to Seattle to be with his wife and impending children. And now... a short 3 months after hanging up his uniform for the last time... he's dead.

Pooka... was, at the very core of his being... a soldier. One of the very few people I consider a true warrior. Another Ranger summed it up best, "LRS team 2-1 embodies the warrior spirit... They were picked out of an entire Battalion. May the fire that burns at their core never fade." That was us... team 2-1, that was me, Pooka, Paul, Brad and John. Three have fallen, two of those in combat, as true warriors should and the other... didn't even have a chance. One... has all but disappeared, we lost all contact with John after he got out. And that leaves me... in the Air Force. Do I regret changing branches... no, not for one minute.

There are certain ways a warrior is ment to die... a car wreck is not one of those ways.

I'm not sure if I made any point in this post, but I just needed to put some of these thoughts down, to start clearing my head. A major part of me died when I read the e-mail from Pookas sister. Having PTSD is not helping this at all. Thankfully, I have an appointment at the VA on Thursday. I know I'll be able to get through this... I know that eventually, I'll see Pooka, Paul and Brad again. But until then... I'll raise a glass in their memory everytime I'm out with the guys from work, I'll make sure my son knows all about the heros his dad served with. And yes... those three men were heros. There are some that put me in that same category... but I deny it every chance I get.

Mostly this is for Pooka. He's the reason for this thread. I'll never forget him. A man I laughed with, drank with, cried with and fought along side. He was a great man and an even better friend. My driving force behind finishing Ranger school. I owe you brother, I'll never forget you.

"Never shall I fail my comrades"

Staff Sergeant. James Pookalati
Born- July 26, 1975 Died- March 2, 2004

Ang and Ranger~

My heart breaks for your pain and for your loss. To many of the people my husband served with in the 101st have recently come home in boxes and to may of the others we know still lay in harms way and yet I can only imagine what you must be going through right now.

Yes things are going to get better with time, but it's going to seem like it takes forever for that time to arrive. In the meantime Ranger you are a lucky man to have the support of a good woman, but even more so you are doubly lucky that you are finally coming to terms with your PTSD and that you know now that you can get through this without pushing away those who would help you.
I would agree with the person who suggested a wake. Even if you can't get ahold of the last member of your unit you can still celebrate his life yourself. In fact in reading your post I can tell you that you are already doing just that. Remembering all the things about this man that made him so special to you, the things that made you call him " brother" in every sense of the word. Sure these memories may be painful now, but you will find the pain becomes somehow sweet in time and that your heart will not always break when you remember his laugh or think on his smile.
Grieve in your own way and on your own timetable. Scream if that's what you need or find a heavy bag and punch it til your hands hurt, whatever soothes you and helps you function. I know it sound cheesy, but this too shall pass.

Tonight I'll raise a glass in honor of your fallen friend despite the fact that we never met. His service, his valor and his life deserve that from one of the many who can stand free because of him. My prayers and good wishes go out to you and Ang and little Alekz.

Chiara

Hang in there you two. Ranger you worded it better than I ever could.

Talk with Ang, talk to your son, love them both and be yourself.

You are all in my prayers.

ABN_Ranger said:

"Never shall I fail my comrades"

Staff Sergeant. James Pookalati
Born- July 26, 1975 Died- March 2, 2004

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Dearest Ranger...there is so much I want to say. You and your Ang know that. But for once, words fail me. Nothing anyone can possibly say can compare to what you have already said.

Your tribute to him is one of the most beautiful things I have ever read.



S.

I'm an AF Med Tech, know what its like to watch those you care about go out into battle without you. My own little brother's going out with his Army helo group in two months. My own group's deploying a lot in the upcoming months. I can understand these deaths, these risks.
But it somehow hurts worse to know they went down in a way that should have never happened.
I've no words of sympathy that I feel can help that haven't been said before.
So instead I offer something to do: in the memory of your friend, brother, and so much more and his wife, perhaps you could set up a trust fund or collage fund for his twins? Its a possitive thing you could do for them in Pooka's memory.
I hope that time brings you solace, that the days to come bring a balm to your soul, helping you get through this, for to get past would mean it doesn't hurt anymore, and I doubt that will ever happen. But I hope the pain can lessen as life goes on.
*Hugs*
Always shall we remember those who have fallen and those who go on in thier memory, despite the pain.

Ang and Ranger,
I've come to know both of you a little bit over the past few weeks, and have come to like you very much. I am so sorry for this latest tragedy to hit your lives and my heart goes out to you.

How do help with grief? Simple, in a way. You don't. You allow it. You embrace it. You somehow manage to live through it. You cry. You scream. You hit pillows. You demand answers from a god you are certain no longer exists.

And eventually, your heart says "good-bye for now, my friend, I'll see you again."

Ranger, your words were a moving tribute to a fallen warrior. Yes, I'm sitting here at work with tears welling up in my eyes, and I'm not even ashamed or embarassed. Is a car accident a way that a warrior dies? Who knows? Not all soldiers die on the field of battle. However, your best friend got to spend time with the people who were important to him: his wife and kids. Think on it like this: if you had a limited time to live, would you rather be with Ang and your son, or in some remote land, far from home? I think we both know what that answer would be.

The bond you share with those you engage in combat with is a bond far stronger than most of us not involved in military life could ever hope to understand. These are men you must give your life over to for your very survival. You expect to grow old one day, drinking beers, watching your grandchildren, and exchanging stories. It's unbearably sad when you know that won't happen. And you know what? It's okay to be sad.

I don't have any great words of wisdom or advice. I lost my father when I was young, and I'm still not sure how I got through it. But I did. Life has this weird way of going on at exactly the moment you want it to stop. Just when you think time should stand still, the sun sets and rises again. It's really is a strange thing - it was to me, anyway.

Continue with your counseling. That is a good thing! And cling tightly to Ang - you two share a love that make most of us both proud and envious! And your son? The promise that life continues even when we are no longer here. You will survive this, Ranger. And I suspect you will be a better man than you already are because of it.

*Hugs* and *Kisses* to all three of you.

Ang and Ranger -

I don't have any advice for you, I just want you to know I am
sending ((((Hugs)))) and support your way. I feel like I have gotten to know you both in the short time I have been here and I am very sorry for your many losses. Ranger, your tribute has me in tears, so eloquent. I admire you both for your strength.

This is a little something that someone I knew did. If you're going to the funeral, sit down and write your friend a letter. One page or 50 it's up to you. Don't stop till you've said it all. Put it in an envelope, address it, even put a stamp on it if you want. Then if it's an open casket slip it in with him. If it's not ask the funeral director if he can put it in.
Other than that the only thing I can offer is write, talk, cry. Whatever it takes. Don't hold it in or it will eat at you.
Even though I don't you guys I just want to say I'm so sorry for your loss.

Wow. There's been much more of a response than I expected here.

It's been a long 24 hours.

I don't think J has slept any, although we did get to bed around 6 this morning. I managed to doze in and out while he probably got less than ten minutes before he had to get up anyways and go to an appointment.

He planned on coming back to bed when he got home, but he couldn't.

He's got a class this afternoon and then doesn't have to go back to work until Monday. It's a good thing the right flight chief answered the phone last night.

Thanks, everyone, for your words of wisdom and support.

This is tougher than even I expected. And I've been through a lot of death.

Ang

I don't know what to say really. It's just horrible. I wish you guys all the best of luck in overcoming it. Things like that just make everyday's little problems seems so trivial.
Snoopy

Um, wow.

I don't know what to say, Hooch.

No, really. I don't.

Ang