I have become addicted to the Military Channel. It is very similar to the way I was addicted to CNN on 9/11 and the weeks that followed. Obsession? Yes.
I watch anything that mentions Marines in it. I also watch stories about Korea, aircraft, covert missions, and snipers. The narration is usually droning and sometimes I fall asleep to the sound of it. I wake up to it again at 3am and scan through to see if a Marine show is on.
Hit the jackpot the other day “Making Marines” was on Sunday. Three glorious hours of filming at Parris Island, with each hour being based on the three phases of boot camp. It was great! I have to admit, some of it brought me to tears as I looked at the faces of these nameless young men and women. It was also tough at times to watch as images of what you were going through were brought to life.
Another new obsession is the internet support sites. I have found some great people going through this ride just as I am. We have forums and there is one specifically for Charlie Co. and platoon 1022 even! So we connect and laugh, and cry and there will be more on all of them later.
I am afraid I speak about you too much. Your name seems to pop out of my mouth at any opportunity, and I just can’t control it. I remind myself of that country song “I wanna talk about me, wanna talk about I..” Alex is doing okay, got a letter from Alex, Alex scored really good on his test, on, and on and on. You would be embarrassed since you do not like to be center stage. I couldn’t possibly miss you any more and this all consuming urge to keep saying your name makes me feel closer to you. I am sure people are getting tired of it. I will apologize to them later, but I just can’t help it now. It is not the same as sending someone off to college. You can call them at their school, pick them up for weekends and go visit them. I am jealous of that. I just want to hear your voice. I want reassurance that you are okay. I want to feel everything is okay in my house again. You cannot just take someone out of the loop after 20 years and expect to carry on. So I speak of you, and often ~ because I have to in order to learn how to cope for what I know will be coming once you graduate and deploy.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Hearing From You and the "Change"
I have the Phase 1 through 3 outlines hanging on the frig. It has each training day and what you are doing, subject to change of course. It is a great way of following along and makes us feel a little connected. Plus I love crossing off in red marker as each day passes.
Your letters have started coming. Every Thursday I sit and wait for the mailman. He usually arrives around 10:30, and I am usually there to greet him. He has gotten used to it now. Even on days when he doesn’t have any bills to deliver he still stops and grabs the daily letter I mail out.
I hold each letter in my hand as if it was a winning lottery ticket, and in some ways it is. I am pretty selfish because even if someone is home, I have to read it first by myself. They are always too short, lacking in information and so hard to try and pick out any key words that tell me how you are really doing.
Everything is always fine. Guys are always fine, except for a few that you always deem as “not getting it”. Food is always fine. You sleep, eat, and drill fine. I want to scream at the mailman to bring me a letter with something more. I want to know if you have lost weight, are they screaming in your face, have you had to do push~ups in the “pit”. I want to know how you are doing on the tests. Yet you share very little. I want to know if the “brotherhood” everyone refers to has started to connect for you. You speak of nobody in names. I know that you do not have first names at Boot, are only referred to as either “Recruit” or your last name. Funny, but some of you don’t even know each others first names even though you are in the same quarters.
I think the hardest part is the not knowing. I realize the DI’s are breaking you down but in the process the same thing is happening to me. Everyone says “wait until you see him, they act so different”. You don’t need to be broken down. I don’t want you to be different and that is what scares me. When I finally see you again at the end of the 13 weeks, will I feel like I don’t know who you have become? I know that is impossible, you are my son. But this “change” is all that is referred to. I had you first and I think I did a pretty damn good job raising you, so why do you have to “change” so much? I think “enhanced” would be a better word! :] May not be very military macho, but it would work for me.
Your letters have started coming. Every Thursday I sit and wait for the mailman. He usually arrives around 10:30, and I am usually there to greet him. He has gotten used to it now. Even on days when he doesn’t have any bills to deliver he still stops and grabs the daily letter I mail out.
I hold each letter in my hand as if it was a winning lottery ticket, and in some ways it is. I am pretty selfish because even if someone is home, I have to read it first by myself. They are always too short, lacking in information and so hard to try and pick out any key words that tell me how you are really doing.
Everything is always fine. Guys are always fine, except for a few that you always deem as “not getting it”. Food is always fine. You sleep, eat, and drill fine. I want to scream at the mailman to bring me a letter with something more. I want to know if you have lost weight, are they screaming in your face, have you had to do push~ups in the “pit”. I want to know how you are doing on the tests. Yet you share very little. I want to know if the “brotherhood” everyone refers to has started to connect for you. You speak of nobody in names. I know that you do not have first names at Boot, are only referred to as either “Recruit” or your last name. Funny, but some of you don’t even know each others first names even though you are in the same quarters.
I think the hardest part is the not knowing. I realize the DI’s are breaking you down but in the process the same thing is happening to me. Everyone says “wait until you see him, they act so different”. You don’t need to be broken down. I don’t want you to be different and that is what scares me. When I finally see you again at the end of the 13 weeks, will I feel like I don’t know who you have become? I know that is impossible, you are my son. But this “change” is all that is referred to. I had you first and I think I did a pretty damn good job raising you, so why do you have to “change” so much? I think “enhanced” would be a better word! :] May not be very military macho, but it would work for me.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Holidays and Missing You
December 26, 2009
You called on Christmas morning. You were hard to hear and your voice sounded so strained and scratchy. For the first time I had some concrete idea of how you are doing. You sound tired ~ no exhausted is a better description. You said your throat really hurt from all the shout outs you have to do. It is okay to send you power bars and cough drops. Just the idea of being able to send you something makes me feel so elated. And then you were gone again. And the girls and I cried from joy and being able to hear you. I immediately called your grandparents and shared the call with them.
Christmas felt very different for me. The whole crazy clan together at Uncle Jims and Aunt Carolyn's. The usual jokes, too much food and fun gift exchanges. I just wanted to go home. We took some family group shots to send to you. All your aunts, uncles and grandparents in one, and then all your cousins in another. When you see the pics it makes you realize how truly blessed we are for this tight knit family. There we were, all 25 of us. And it has always been 26. A toast was made to you at dinner and I had a hard time swallowing my sip of wine and smiling. Talk of college, ski and snowboarding adventures to come, what everyone was doing on vacation, etc. dominated the table conversation. I tried to listen, but I was instead wondering what you were having for Christmas dinner. Did you have firewatch? Did you glance at the stars in South Carolina and think of us back at home?
I wish I had known that last Christmas was going to be the last we would probably share with you for a while. I don't know what I would have done, but I just wish I had known.
You called on Christmas morning. You were hard to hear and your voice sounded so strained and scratchy. For the first time I had some concrete idea of how you are doing. You sound tired ~ no exhausted is a better description. You said your throat really hurt from all the shout outs you have to do. It is okay to send you power bars and cough drops. Just the idea of being able to send you something makes me feel so elated. And then you were gone again. And the girls and I cried from joy and being able to hear you. I immediately called your grandparents and shared the call with them.
Christmas felt very different for me. The whole crazy clan together at Uncle Jims and Aunt Carolyn's. The usual jokes, too much food and fun gift exchanges. I just wanted to go home. We took some family group shots to send to you. All your aunts, uncles and grandparents in one, and then all your cousins in another. When you see the pics it makes you realize how truly blessed we are for this tight knit family. There we were, all 25 of us. And it has always been 26. A toast was made to you at dinner and I had a hard time swallowing my sip of wine and smiling. Talk of college, ski and snowboarding adventures to come, what everyone was doing on vacation, etc. dominated the table conversation. I tried to listen, but I was instead wondering what you were having for Christmas dinner. Did you have firewatch? Did you glance at the stars in South Carolina and think of us back at home?
I wish I had known that last Christmas was going to be the last we would probably share with you for a while. I don't know what I would have done, but I just wish I had known.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
The Importance of Writing Letters
Everyone says write letters. You can receive them and eventually we would get some in return. Letters will be your only connection to the world outside and to us.
So I have started writing. I got two boxes of envelopes ~ plain white because anything else may bring you unwarranted attention. I got 2 rolls of stamps and lots of paper. I could type them, but then that would be cold I think.
Every morning I write. I write about the weather, the local news, what your sisters and brother are doing. I write about the holidays, but that makes me sad. The realization that you will be missing from our holiday table, and I know it is the first time of many to come.
There are so many silly things to remember about sending letters or packages. The address has to be just right or it will be undeliverable. Plain white envelopes ~ NO stickers, colors, perfume, musical cards, pornography (hmmmm like that is going to happen!)or weapons. No food, candy ~ you get the drift. I am so afraid of making a mistake and having you singled out at mail call and ridiculed for some offense your uneducated civilian mother may have made.
So I feel like a teacher giving instructions to her class when I hand out your address to people. It comes with a complete set of instructions for writing a freaking letter. It also comes with the threat of my wrath if anyone tries to be funny and goes against the rules.
And I write. I write every day ~ never missing one. And I am beginning to understand why you were starting to feel stifled and bored in this small town we call home.
So I have started writing. I got two boxes of envelopes ~ plain white because anything else may bring you unwarranted attention. I got 2 rolls of stamps and lots of paper. I could type them, but then that would be cold I think.
Every morning I write. I write about the weather, the local news, what your sisters and brother are doing. I write about the holidays, but that makes me sad. The realization that you will be missing from our holiday table, and I know it is the first time of many to come.
There are so many silly things to remember about sending letters or packages. The address has to be just right or it will be undeliverable. Plain white envelopes ~ NO stickers, colors, perfume, musical cards, pornography (hmmmm like that is going to happen!)or weapons. No food, candy ~ you get the drift. I am so afraid of making a mistake and having you singled out at mail call and ridiculed for some offense your uneducated civilian mother may have made.
So I feel like a teacher giving instructions to her class when I hand out your address to people. It comes with a complete set of instructions for writing a freaking letter. It also comes with the threat of my wrath if anyone tries to be funny and goes against the rules.
And I write. I write every day ~ never missing one. And I am beginning to understand why you were starting to feel stifled and bored in this small town we call home.
Friday, May 28, 2010
On Leaving....
December 15, 2009
You left yesterday. The silence from you has started and I never realized how loud silence can be. It is in every corner of the house, in your room, and outside.
We said goodbye at a dinner that we all tried to keep upbeat. But every laugh seemed forced and every smile stiff.
And I watched you chew. I stared at every hair on your head, knowing it would be soon shaved down to your scalp. I wanted you to stuff yourself full of bread and vegetables and dessert, because when would you eat like this again? And I noticed the way you kept your eyes down, as if you were afraid to make eye contact because you knew there would be tears in mine. I promised myself I would not cry and I would hold firm to that promise until you were out of my sight.
When we walked outside it was raining and I was happy because it covered my face. When I hugged you I was truly shocked at just how much taller you are than me and when did that happen? I knew you were apprehensive because you do not like tears so I kept them in as best I could. I know I said something, but I do not remember what it was, or how I got any words past the lump in my throat that was threatening to choke off the very breath I tried to take in.
And I cried. I know I will many more times on this journey. You are the first to leave, and that alone warrants tears. But I will be okay, just as I know you will be.
You left yesterday. The silence from you has started and I never realized how loud silence can be. It is in every corner of the house, in your room, and outside.
We said goodbye at a dinner that we all tried to keep upbeat. But every laugh seemed forced and every smile stiff.
And I watched you chew. I stared at every hair on your head, knowing it would be soon shaved down to your scalp. I wanted you to stuff yourself full of bread and vegetables and dessert, because when would you eat like this again? And I noticed the way you kept your eyes down, as if you were afraid to make eye contact because you knew there would be tears in mine. I promised myself I would not cry and I would hold firm to that promise until you were out of my sight.
When we walked outside it was raining and I was happy because it covered my face. When I hugged you I was truly shocked at just how much taller you are than me and when did that happen? I knew you were apprehensive because you do not like tears so I kept them in as best I could. I know I said something, but I do not remember what it was, or how I got any words past the lump in my throat that was threatening to choke off the very breath I tried to take in.
And I cried. I know I will many more times on this journey. You are the first to leave, and that alone warrants tears. But I will be okay, just as I know you will be.
Before You Leave for Bootcamp
December 9, 2009
Dear Alex,
I know you don’t do emotional stuff well, and that is pretty much what I am made of!
But the days that you are going to be home are getting fewer and there are some things I wanted to say before you leave.
I have gained so much respect for you these past few months. I have always been proud of you – I am your mother and extremely biased! But in these past months watching your determination and conviction on entering the Marines I have realized the man you are becoming.
It has been my “job” these past 20 years to teach you to stand on your own two feet, to explore the world, to protect you from life’s hurts – both physical and emotional. I was given the task to guide you into making right choices and knowing when you made a wrong one to learn from it. I have loved you unconditionally and as deeply as any mother could love her child. Your birth was a gift that I had longed for, for so many years.
I have completed my task. You have taken a stand and decided where you want your life to go. You are ready for the challenge that will come – both physically and emotionally. You have made a choice that many questioned yet you knew it was the right one and have never waivered. And it has made me love you more.
These next weeks will be challenging ones. When sometimes you question this decision know that I am with you nodding that it is the right choice. When your body is tired and aching know that I am with you comforting you and pushing you forward. I believe in you more than I ever could before.
It is time to let the child that I have nurtured and held on to all these years go. Instead I will gain a son that has become a man, a Marine. In the coming weeks, after you have completed this task you will give me a gift. I will become one of the lucky ones who can wear the title of “Marine Mom” with pride.
As I said, I know you don’t do emotion well, and that is all I am made of. I know how you feel and that is all that matters.
Semper Fi Alex, Semper fi.
Love Mom
Dear Alex,
I know you don’t do emotional stuff well, and that is pretty much what I am made of!
But the days that you are going to be home are getting fewer and there are some things I wanted to say before you leave.
I have gained so much respect for you these past few months. I have always been proud of you – I am your mother and extremely biased! But in these past months watching your determination and conviction on entering the Marines I have realized the man you are becoming.
It has been my “job” these past 20 years to teach you to stand on your own two feet, to explore the world, to protect you from life’s hurts – both physical and emotional. I was given the task to guide you into making right choices and knowing when you made a wrong one to learn from it. I have loved you unconditionally and as deeply as any mother could love her child. Your birth was a gift that I had longed for, for so many years.
I have completed my task. You have taken a stand and decided where you want your life to go. You are ready for the challenge that will come – both physically and emotionally. You have made a choice that many questioned yet you knew it was the right one and have never waivered. And it has made me love you more.
These next weeks will be challenging ones. When sometimes you question this decision know that I am with you nodding that it is the right choice. When your body is tired and aching know that I am with you comforting you and pushing you forward. I believe in you more than I ever could before.
It is time to let the child that I have nurtured and held on to all these years go. Instead I will gain a son that has become a man, a Marine. In the coming weeks, after you have completed this task you will give me a gift. I will become one of the lucky ones who can wear the title of “Marine Mom” with pride.
As I said, I know you don’t do emotion well, and that is all I am made of. I know how you feel and that is all that matters.
Semper Fi Alex, Semper fi.
Love Mom
This Is My Journey With My Son
This is my journey with my son. It is one that I did not expect and am learning how to deal with as we stumble along.
My son is a United States Marine. I am both extremely proud and extremely worried. Like anything else, unless you walk in the shoes, you cannot truly understand it and the emotions that come with it.
It is described as a rollercoaster ride by those that I have met in the military family. Well, I hate rollercoasters!
I am not blogging trying to sway anyone's beliefs, views, or attitudes. This is just my way of sharing the ride my son has taken me, and therefore his extended family on. At times it may be very personal, always heartfelt, and blatently honest.
My son is a United States Marine. I am both extremely proud and extremely worried. Like anything else, unless you walk in the shoes, you cannot truly understand it and the emotions that come with it.
It is described as a rollercoaster ride by those that I have met in the military family. Well, I hate rollercoasters!
I am not blogging trying to sway anyone's beliefs, views, or attitudes. This is just my way of sharing the ride my son has taken me, and therefore his extended family on. At times it may be very personal, always heartfelt, and blatently honest.
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