by Deacon Rie
Stephen dared to avert his gaze and couldn't help but allow his own eyes to admire the firmly pressed uniform of a highly decorated Command Sergeant Major. In an instant, he recognized six rows of ribbons along with a litany of badges which included Pathfinder, Airborne Jumpmaster, Air Assault, Expert Marksman, and the Expert Infantryman badge. On the man's left shoulder, Stephen could see the edges of the unmistakable tabs identifying him as an Airborne Ranger. Atop the tabs rested a blue and gold one that read ‘Special Forces,' indicating the man was a Green Beret.
Standing at full attention the man quickly snapped his arm into a perfectly straight salute just to the eyebrow's tip on his rugged dark face. On the man's left sleeve, Stephen could see the bottom cuff with sleeve marks representing numerous years of military service and on the right, short horizontal gold stripes above the cuff told the story of multiple combat deployments. Stephen looked at the white letters on the black nameplate which read, "Waters."
Motivated by a concentrated blend of respect and intimidation, Stephen stood straighter than he had in years. His legs, cast and all, came to full attention with his heals locked together and feet at a forty-five degree separation. Leaning the crutch against his rib cage, he raised his arm and returned the salute.
They both dropped their arms and the Sergeant Major extended his arm to shake Stephen's hand. His voice was rooted and rich, and while it clearly had the ability to command respect from the rowdiest of reprobates, it emerged with a tenderness and compassion which could only come from one who appreciated better than most, the value of a life.
"Sergeant Lantz, my name is Andre Waters and I came down here to say thank you to a man who goes above and beyond his responsibilities. I came down here to say thank you to a man who would place the lives of his men above his own, to say thank you to a man for keeping his head when most would have buried theirs."
Still shaking hands, Sergeant Major Waters paused for a brief moment to collect his words. He was nearly betrayed by a growing lump in his throat, but he continued to forcefully lock eyes with Stephen. The man could have stood there for an hour without saying a word and Stephen would have waited, patiently.
"I came down here," his voice renewed and strong, "to say thank you to the man who brought my grandson back home to my wife and me."
Stephen was unsure how to respond to such a direct tone. While it was clearly spoken in gratitude, Stephen felt uncomfortable taking any credit for saving Corporal Waters' life. "I'm honored, Sergeant Major," were the only words capable of leaving his lips.
Continuing with the embrace, the Sergeant Major brought the other hand up to enclose Stephen's and responded, "No, son. The honor is mine. Chip is doing well. Still has a long road ahead of him but thanks to you, we get to travel down that road with him. Son, your sacrifice honors every man and woman who has ever worn that uniform but more personally, your sacrifice will continue to bless his grandmother and me for the rest of our lives."
As the grip of their handshake held, Stephen stood in silence and absorbed the impact of the deep appreciation being doused on him.
"I've always told Chip that to truly see the strength which lives within him, he only needs to see a reflection of himself during the toughest of times. Son, in that place where you two were, you got a chance to see yourself in the toughest of times. From what I've been told, when it all fell apart and you had nothing else to hold on to, a strength that works within you gave you the ability to keep your head together and do what needed to be done. You didn't quit. You didn't quit on yourself and you didn’t quit on your men. And for that, we are all blessed and thankful."
The subtle scent of the man’s morning aftershave reminded Stephen to breathe.
"So now you know." The Sergeant Major raised his left hand into a gentle fist and slowly, softly pressed it to Stephen's chest and held it there. "Now you know what's inside of you. Don't you ever forget who you are and what makes up your reflection. In those tough times and there will be tough times. Son, trust me on that. In the days ahead, the months and the years. Whenever you face those times, you dig deep and you look hard inside yourself. Because now you know there's a strength working inside of you that can do more than you might think.”
The man’s eyes seemed to etch each word into Stephen’s soul as he continued, “From this point forward, when you find yourself in the mess of things and you’re ready to give up, you reach out to that strength. You reach out and you get ready, because now you know it’s there. Don’t forget that."
He paused, lowered his hand and broke the first hint of something which resembled a smile before finishing. "I can promise you, we won't ever forget. And for that, I thank you."
Stephen soaked in every word but was a loss for presenting his own. In his momentary hesitation the Sergeant Major, evidently a man uninterested in ongoing chatter beyond the directed purpose, released his grip and walked passed Stephen. He moved on to the other service members and offered brief but appropriate gratitude to each of them for their service and their sacrifices. Stephen observed each one adjust their bearing and stance as their respect for the Sergeant Major preceded his gratitude. He thanked the last Marine and then turned away to the exit. A moment later, Stephen watched Command Sergeant Major Waters get into the green cab. The man's twenty minute objective had been completed and now departing for the last leg of a 2,000 mile journey back to the Northeast.
Sarah woke Stephen from his trance with a gentle embrace, "Hey you."
"Wow, is it good to see you." He brought his arms up to hold her and quickly kissed his wife with an appreciation even he didn't fully understand.
"Who was that man you were watching?"
"Remember Corporal Waters I told you about? That was his grandfather."
"That was sweet of him to come by. What'd he have to say?"
Still lost in depths of words which rattled around inside him, Stephen replied, "A lot.”
“Oh yeah? What about?” Sarah asked with innocent curiosity.
Stephen stood in awe as the scent of the Sergeant Major’s aftershave drifted from his reach. “I don’t think I know, Sarah. I just know it was a lot.”
Mile 14
Sarah knew the recovery time at BAMC had been a needed and well deserved time of rest for Stephen. But as many military families had come to learn, the hardest part of a soldier's return home was being home. During over two years of deployments and medical recoveries, Sarah had made all the decisions pertaining to the household. It wasn't a job she had asked for, but the day Stephen was activated with the National Guard, she became a full time employee.
When a Guard unit is activated, civilian communities bind together to offer support to the families of their military delegates. Sarah's community was no different and the offers of assistance had been extremely encouraging. Initially, they were even overwhelming. There were food baskets, parties just for the families of deployed soldiers, free concerts put on, events for the kids. There was so much to do; Sarah was genuinely concerned Hailey would begin to think this attention was her new normal. Months into each deployment however, the community went back to its routines. Unintentionally, the wellspring of supportive efforts began to fade behind the brightness of daily life. Just as the veteran spouses of past deployments predicted to her, a few months into the deployment was when things would start to get really hard.
Sarah quickly found it impossible to keep everything together while trying to be both mom and dad to Hailey. As sick as Hailey was, she still had to be taught that Sarah was the parent and the final decision maker. In the beginning months without Stephen, Hailey would cry for him and refuse to do the basic things like picking up her toys until Daddy came home. Through several tears on both sides, Sarah eventually established her position as sole authority within the home.
Periodically, people would ask how they could help Sarah. It wasn't an intrusive question. She just didn't have a good response. There was always work to be done. But she quickly found that by accepting some
one else's help she often put herself in the inconvenienced position to coordinate their assistance. Sometimes it was a friend coming to help clean the house; who invariably would stick around to chat and cause Sarah to get behind on other items. Other times an acquaintance would do something like get a great deal on a replacement piece of furniture they needed, such as a big girl bed for Hailey, but it would still require Sarah be available for whenever they eventually showed up. None of these things had been bad, and she felt guilty for even flirting with emotions of frustration. She simply didn't have the ability to drop everything in order to receive someone else's graciousness. Eventually, she could admit to herself that what she was lacking was patience, and all she wanted was to be left alone to manage her divided family.
Sarah couldn't behave like a typical single parent. Despite being deployed to the other side of the world, Stephen was still in the picture to have a say and an influence. At times she felt as though he was her supervisor looking over every decision she made. She could admit that he never really behaved this way, but without acknowledging it she placed him in the role. Sarah found herself questioning her decisions and then compounding the doubt by questioning what Stephen would think about it. The constant pressure, seemingly coming from two people, one of which was mostly unable to communicate, was too much on her. Hailey's nightly bedtime crying became so common she practically made a calendar entry for them. Sarah realized she had to find a better way of handling things if she was going to make it through deployment.
In a break of clear mindedness, somewhat of an epiphany, Sarah awoke one morning and committed to taking on a new approach, a new outlook and a new role. It was the role of the household drill sergeant. She began to run the financial books with a sharper pen. She initiated routines and firmly scheduled her oversight of home maintenance with no tolerance for anything less than perfection by contractors or volunteers. When Hailey got sick, she coordinated her daughter's medical appointments with fierce efficiency. She managed relationships and coordinated family visitations with firm opinions determined by what was best for her and Hailey. Despite the constant insecurities and questioning, she began to handle matters with commanding respect and immediate responsiveness. More than once she raised a firm voice to put a stranger behind the counter in their place. It didn't matter if it was a mechanic trying to feed her a line about needing a new oil filter, or a less than enthusiastic office assistant at the doctor's office who was previously unconcerned with Sarah's schedule conflict. Sarah learned to put the screws to people and how to make them move. No longer was she passive and easy going. This new shoot first, aim later personality created a shadow that made her previously over-accommodating self, barely even recognizable. The only one who consistently penetrated Sarah's thickening shell was Stephen's mother, Rebecca.
Rebecca and Sarah did not have a stereotypical mother-in-law relationship. Years before, when Stephen and Sarah began dating seriously, Rebecca bypassed the standard judgmental review of her son's girlfriend and instead took time to get to know who Sarah was. Rebecca learned that Sarah had lost her own mother during her teen years when a patron from a two-drink minimum bar slept through a lane change and continued over the road's yellow line. Rebecca's heart went out to the twenty-three year old without regard for her own son's intentions. When Sarah's status changed from friend to family, Rebecca remained a mentor to Sarah rather than a mother-in-law.
Rebecca was a true caregiver at heart. Even before her own husband suffered the debilitating stroke, Rebecca could always be found tending to the sick or lonely or elderly in her church. When the family began battling the dual fronts of war and cancer, Rebecca refocused her time, attention and strength on Hailey, Sarah and her own husband, Tom. Rebecca didn't always ask. With a gentle forcefulness and a keen sense of grace guiding her to know just how far to push, Rebecca would step in and lower the heat before pots could boil over. She had an uncanny ability to see the things which needed to be done and know just where to place importance. Sometimes the priority was laundry, other times it picking up extra groceries, but most of the time her priority was the people. Whenever able, Rebecca would jump in and take care of something for Sarah at just the right moment, such as the time when Rebecca had asked teenager from her church to come by and trim the hedges. The young man arrived, accessed all of their tools, cleaned up and left without Sarah so much as having to make him a glass of lemonade. Rebecca, knowing Sarah's attention had been diverted to caring for Hailey, took care of everything and gave him a ride home before Sarah even knew he had been there. In most in-law relationships this type of impeding activity by a husband's mother could be like a lit match resting on a powder keg. But Sarah had a great appreciation for Rebecca, and the deployment only brought them closer.
Great as Rebecca was, she couldn't replace Stephen as a helpmate. Several encouraging folk and the area support networks did their very best to reach Sarah. There were visits from friends and neighbors. On more than one occasion a senior officer's wife and in some instances, even the officers themselves, came by to offer a word of encouragement in the hope to support a deployed soldier's family. Due to Hailey's frequent medical checkups, the visits were typically not received; many took the time to leave a friendly note or voice mail when the doorbell of the empty home went unanswered.
Circumstantial self-dependency mixed with a regular dose of loneliness forced an internalization of Sarah's own feelings. As a result, she watched herself become stronger by the day and she hated it. She didn't like being an authority figure. At first, she hated handling conflict situations even as small as disputing a utility bill. But as the frequency of conflict situations arose, the easier she found it was to bury her natural aversion and respond aggressively. A dishonest auto mechanic, an apathetic nurse, an unprepared contractor, regardless of the reasons for being put in a conflict position she quickly learned she could walk past her fears much more confidently while wearing a mask of determination and ruthlessness. It wasn't long before her revealed no-nonsense personality eventually developed a supporting quick-fuse temper.
The sheltering masks didn't work when she had to deal with Hailey. She didn't like playing good-parent, bad-parent, which all too often came out in the form of bad-parent and really-pissed-off-parent. It broke Sarah's heart to be the authoritarian and disciplinarian while also trying to be Hailey's comforter and protector. Even when cancer wasn't around, Hailey was still a difficult child. Chemo treatments and medications had led to side effects which didn't ignore Hailey's own frustrations. Some things had been amplified while others had been suppressed, such as Hailey's ability to know when was not a good time to scream at the top of her lungs. Acting as a single parent, Sarah had long since kissed away dignity and pride.
Sarah understood what Stephen was doing and why he had to go. She knew deployments were part of the package when they had gotten married. She appreciated that he had signed up to serve their country. But that hadn't made a cold bed any warmer, it didn't balance the checkbook and it sure didn't make raising a sick daughter any easier. She missed Stephen tremendously but once the storm of life brought on the rainy season and the initial months of loneliness had became familiar, she had to regularly remind herself that she didn't resent Stephen for leaving. During his second deployment, she eventually forgot those reminders.
She knew a return from a deployment, especially one which included wartime injuries, was a difficult time for military families. Since his arrival was another abrupt return and this time to a military hospital, Sarah missed the reintegration training where she would have learned about being reminded about having patience, tender words, a low soft voice and several other things about how to help Stephen return. Instead, her crash course was seeing her husband for the first time in months, wrapped in bandages and healing from broken bones and a gunshot wound.
Rebecca and Sarah's friends attempted to encourage her about Stephen's road to recovery. Unfortunately, she quickly came to the realization that Stephen wasn't the
same as he was before. During a moment of Rebecca's honest counsel, Sarah came to appreciate that she wasn't the same either. Despite the advice she received from women who had gone through wounded warrior therapy, Sarah hung on to hopes that their life could go back to the way they were before deployment, before cancer, before whenever it was that they didn't argue endlessly.
Tension in the house began almost immediately after Stephen's hospital treatment and recovery. Sarah found she was having a hard time letting him make any decisions around the house. Whenever he brought something up, she habitually corrected him. Not one to quickly back down, the Army Sergeant's knee jerk reactions were often direct and pointed. When he became tired of being corrected all the time, Stephen began anticipating Sarah's rebuke. Without even thinking about it he would open a conversation sarcastically. Sarah, more than willing to take the bait, gave it back better than he expected. In response, he began to feel that her condescending responses justified his sarcastic tone and before either of them knew it they were engaged in an all out screaming match.
Before long the Lantz household had developed a pattern of disagreeing, arguing, raising voices and then silence followed by mutual but non-committal apologies. Stephen routinely suggested that all he needed was some fresh air. When they were both home at the same time, Stephen conveniently decided it was time to follow his physical therapist's suggestion to go out and walk a couple of miles. The most peaceful time in the house was when the voices naturally descended in preparation for putting Hailey to bed. Without even knowing when it began or who did it first, they developed a routine of saying good night to their daughter separately.