Our Heroes

The name on the Tipton High School memorial is so simple and powerful.  I can't even look at a picture of it without crying because the pride that my hometown has for JD and other soldiers killed serving our country is so pure and genuine.  Anyone who choses to construct a monument with huge letters that read "OUR HEROES" shows an enormous amount of respect and gratitude.  And that's what Memorial Day is about.

It would be redundant to write about how frustrating it is to hear about all of the Memorial Day picnics and Memorial Day lake trips and Memorial Day sales (since when did soldiers die for discounted shoes?).  I suppose I've complained enough in the last 2 years about how the meaning of the holiday is lost in commercialism and excuses for days off work.

I have a very close friend, sweet at heart, who asked, genuinely, "What is Memorial Day even about?  The war?"  I could not even get upset to be honest with you.  The fact that someone would actually ask is effort enough for me these days.  I was glad to explain it.  I don't even hold resentment toward the ignorance.  The truth is, more people don't know than I really thought.  I have surrounded myself with such patriotic people and soldiers and vets, I am realizing that a lot of Americans still do not know what their freedom costs.  Thank God for Memorial Day.

It appears that I may be disinterested, forgetful or "over" JD and the patriotism I have displayed in the past.  There have certainly been some bigger changes in my life over the last year and months that have made it impossible for me to organize or display things for JD.  But the heart is still there.  There.  Got that guilt off of my chest, and I release it to the judgers.  You can have it ;)

Once again at the last minute, I was able to organize the JD Hunt Memorial Scholarship in Tipton for 2 incredible young men this year.  My dad worked equally hard in obtaining the checks and rearranging his busy workload to get to Tipton to hand deliver the checks to the graduates personally at the awards assembly.  That man is so proud of his kids, and he is such a great example of an incredible gold star dad. 

Jonathon Good and Clayton Kincannon are this year's recipients of the scholarship.  We were able to gather $275 for each.  These two young men are in our great nation's Army National Guard.  We are so gratful for their service and selflessness.  We are very proud to be able to show our appreciation to them with a small token of gratitude in JD's name.  Congratulations and thank you to these guys.

To be honest, raising money for this important annual award is never difficult.  I simply post one reminder on Facebook and I have a very generous scholarship within one day.  One particular friend truly impresses me each year.  I have not seen her in 10 years, and to be honest with you, never hung out with her a lot but knew her through a great organization and we ran into each other often for a few days at a time.  She has always been an incredibly impressive person.  Extremely genuine and intelligent and sweet.  She does this every year.  She always says she could not have gone to college without scholarships.  She is now an attorney in New York.  I cannot tell you how much it means to me and my family and assuringly to recipients of the JD Hunt Scholarships in Tipton, OK.  How incredibly generous.

I am never short on Memorial Day decorations.  While I'm not quite the same as I have been in the past at decorating my house and body with more pieces of patriotic flair than a TGI Friday's server, I was happy to decorate my new house for the first time with pieces that remind us to appreciate and remember the sacrifices that allow us all to have cookouts and mattresses for up to 40% off.  ;)

It is still very, very difficult.  Daily life has become easier, but the pain of JD's death will never ever go away.  With the approaching trial (sadly starting very close to what would be JD's 25th birthday), I am sad to say that most of the time I spend thinking about JD is regarding his last moments.  Not our childhood, or Ninja Turtles or video games or snuggling kittens, as I've remembered him in the past.  It's been all about how I cannot believe the picture I look at every day was in one of the most scary situations a person can encounter on November 5, 2009, and he is gone forever now.  I always think about his thoughts...was he scared, did he cry, did it hurt, did he think he'd make it, did he know he was dying, how long did it take, what did he think about, did he even know what was going on.  See.  Bawling right now.  No one wants to think about someone they love having to go through that.  It's not about what I lost.  It's about what he sacrificed and felt.  I think about him in that back room with women under the table, picturing the whole awful scenario, and it still very much hurts, just like it did 2 1/2 years ago.  I imagine the upcoming trial will not help that, as America will join us in repainting the story in detail for weeks or months.  Yipee.

This remains one of my most cherished pictures.  I have mentioned before how my son is a replica of JD.  He walks like him, likes the same things he did, has the same timid, loving behavior and is so, so smart.  I wish my son got to spend more time with JD.  The would be buddies, I know.

Happy Memorial Day.  To OUR HEROES. 

Revenge of the Herds

I'm showing my age for sure. I was going to name this Revenge of the Turds, but I'm trying to show my maturity and write about how I'm rising above. Some of the people mentioned in this story can definitely be turds, to put it nicely. But the masses of vengeful people in this world is what lead me to purge my thoughts tonight.

Oh how I miss J.D. I've experienced just about every major life change that can possibly happen in the last couple of years, but most recently, the changes have kept me so busy and distracted, and I thank God for that. It blows me away that I will walk by my brother's picture on my kitchen wall dozens of times a day and only really see it maybe once a week. It makes the realization of the time that's passed and the distractions I've had lay on the guilt...just like old times. I literally feel like he's staring at me in the picture on my kitchen wall (when I look) saying, "Wow, sis. Already forgot about me?"

I recently told a fellow gold star sibling that I feel like, with each month, year, etc, that I'm reaching out my hand to J.D. and he's floating off to Mars. That's the closest way I can explain to what it's like to lose someone and how it feels as time passes by.

I never would've thought that my license plate, JDSIS, would have to remind the most obvlivious person about the November 5th shooting and that J.D. Hunt is not alive anymore....me. And that I am becoming one of the people I use to get frustrated with. I'm glad I still have it on my car though. It seems to be one of the few things that didn't get stuffed in a box, where it may lay scarcely until I have the bravery to open it again. I actually like being reminded when I walk out of the grocery store that I'm J.D.'s sister. Sometimes even I forget.

I still talk about J.D. often. But now more than ever, I have to use the qualifier. "My brother was killed in the Ft. Hood shooting 2 1/2 years ago...do you remember when that happened? You know, Ft. Hood, that army base a few hours south of Dallas? The officer that opened fire in a building...13 people died? No? Well, it's been a while...Oh, Peyton Manning? Yea, I know who he is..."

By the way, this post will probably, like always, be filled with subtle hints and inside jokes that I passive-aggressively hope will filter through the chain to the people they were intended for. I'm a coward and I know it. Oh, you didn't know I always did that? From the very beginning of this blog :)

With the approaching trial, the phones have been heating up again, and as I imagined, all of the feelings from the shooting are beginning to stir up in me again. I will be honest, I'm a little nervous to have the whole thing spelled out in detail in national news again. I'm admitting to feeling guilty for moving on with my life, and I don't imagine hearing about the brutal murder of my little brother in detail again is gonna help that much. And to be honest, I'm scared it's going to move me backwards.

I think J.D. would be okay with lightening up the load a little. He has given me patriotism and pride and courage and strength that I would've never known without him. No guilt or amount of time can take that away. It's part of me forever, and I'm so thankful.

So it still amazes me, and strangely also comforts me, to still feel very offended by the vengeful, hate-filled comments I hear regarding 11/5/09. It validates to me that my feelings and my beliefs are real and consistent, not dramatized by heightened emotions or circumstance. In fact, people seem to become more vengeful and hateful, simply as a default, when a lot of time has passed, or the conversation is uncomfortable, or they just still don't know what to say. It still goes straight to "If it wasn't for that stupid President..." or "We are still waiting for a trial?? Why don't we just get the firing squad and be done with it? Too much time and money wasted on this." Which is so, so aggrivating. It is nothing less than people telling me how to feel, which has been one of my complaints from the beginning. If I don't want to blame the President, or call the firing squad, or not give an American a fair trial...why are you telling me that I should? Who ARE you? By the way, that's my little brother...do you even know his name? I try not to hold anger in my heart, but it's the very people who won't let me NOT have anger in my heart that give me anger in my heart. Poetic isn't it?

I guess it's the judgment thing that just bothers me. I'm all for letting the people intended for judging be a judge. Like, I don't know, a judge. When your JOB is to judge, and I know of very few, I feel like it's permissable. Wampler and Simon Cowell and Judy...go for it. But how very arrogant of people to assume I will handle a situation exactly as they do. "Oh people will judge your decisions, whether you admit it or not." Oh, I totally admit it, and it is maddening. That statement alone is so full of pressure and judgment to do exactly as the person saying it to you believes, that it just burns me up and actually makes me want to do something more, even if I know it's not the smartest decision. It's nothing short of a power trip, and there are a lot of people on that plane. Let someone judge me. I think I'd score well. Whatever happened to "those who live in glass houses should not throw rocks" ? "Until you've walked a mile in their shoes..."? I mean, I wear a size 10 and mostly 5 inch heels lately. You sure you have been doing exactly the same thing, in exactly the same size? Or want to? I guess I'm saying whenever you meet a person with the "All Knowing, Judge of All Things" badge on, let me know. Otherwise, I think I'll be just as okay as the next person trying to figure it out on my own. Pretty sure I'll be dead when I meet the guy with that authority.

I can only imagine what the next few months will bring. With every twitch of the defense or article of clothing worn or not worn, I will hear tsks and sighs and huffs and puffs and hate just spewing about. "I mean, can you BELIEVE he had the nerve to cough during the testimony? He should die! DIE! DIE!"

I recently spoke with one of the amazing families who are survivors, not victims, of the November 5th shooting. The one thing I want people to get is that all of those "safe" cliche, hate-filled comments they spew out, assuming we family members feel that way is mostly wrong. Mostly all of the time actually. I obviously cannot speak for all of them, but I know a great number of them are more frustrated with the public's ignorance than the things they assume we would be frustrated with. One of the families is doing just amazing things with the platform that this tragedy has given us.

I spoke to a person just yesterday about it. I was speaking about this family so admiringly, also reflecting on my own growth, and told her how much I value the serenity prayer.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.



We can never change 11/5/09. But the courage to change the things we can as a result of that day is something that this family is doing is so inspiring. This is not to discount any families who feel angry or down or don't want to get involved in anything. I understand absolutely every aspect of how this loss can be coped with, and I judge none of it. But most people would be amazed at this courage part that the surviving families of the November 5th shooting have. They (we) are survivors of DOING. I have been touched, and again validated, each time I talk to a survivor who is reaching out to someone else, organizing something, memorializing the fallen 13, or doing REALLY big, amazing things to make changes in the world. From what I have seen, most of us are not a group of surviving belly-achers. My new family of this tragedy are amazing people of grace and indestructable courage. So let's stop with all of the assumingly vengeful attitudes when we start this trial, K? Maybe some people will feel that anger stir up in them when we have to hear it all again. I guess I'm just asking that you let us make that decision instead of making it for us.

I've been noticing it more lately in all aspects of life. Hate is becoming a default, and I hate it. See?

I have a friend who is super vengeful. He's otherwise an amazingly sweet and sensitive person. But he's been hurt so much in his life, if someone so much as gets his order wrong at a Mickey D's (or double D's...that's all you're getting ;), he's circling around again through the drive through to make sure they know how mad he is, demanding a free apple pie or something to comepensate him for doing him wrong. His favorite line, almost with a smile is, "They have to pay..." This is what hate does to people. Someone gives it to them so much, it becomes them. And that is why I fight so hard against allowing it into my life. There is no purpose for it. Nothing useful, nothing but misery. Who choses misery? Sometimes it comes and is harder to fight off than other times. But who actively chooses it? Not a fun way to live life. We have the choice! It's so invigorating when we realize that. I forget sometimes too.

Another potentially angering situation in my personal life, when shared or addressed with others, reallllly brings on the vengeful pushiness. "Did you tell her you'd rather eat a shit sandwhich...?" Um. No. I just said no thank you. But now I kinda feel like I shouldda said that...should I? I don't know! I'm not that upset about it, but you're kinda pressuring me to be...

I try not to chose misery as often as I can. I do better in some areas than others. But I am just not one of those people where I let revenge be the misery I chose. I will forgive a person a million times over. They can steal my Conn's TVs (they're financed, by the way, so that should really make me mad...nothing like paying for something you don't have) and I'd let them back in and give them my toaster. Don't get me wrong, sometimes that forgiveness translates to misery, so I have to be careful. I'll be the first to admit, I love and forgive too easily. But what's too easily? Should it be that hard? It's just not for me. Sorry to disappoint the angry judges.

The point is, revenge is for turds.

Blame It On The Rain

Today I'm writing from a cafe in an airport. The best/worst one in my opinion. Probably pretty predictable for anyone who knows me...she's gonna start whining about the soldiers in the airport again.

Yea. She is.

Besides the obvious of having no time to blog anymore, I was thinking about the other reasons I have not written in so long as I was flying tonight. This job comes with quite a bit of travel, so I'm becoming comfortable with my mantra of magazine, sleep (with at least one jolting snort that wakes me up from embarrassment...happens every time) then deep thought until landing. I suppose it's become my way to relax in the midst of this whirlwind I'm living these days.

So anything I would write about in the last 6 months would be more me, me, me than ever. My life truly isn't completely about JD anymore. Parts of me wish it never was so much, but the realistic part of me knows that would never happen. I try to focus on the good I did during my dark cave days of grieving him rather beating myself up for the self wallowing and blaming myself for what I lost on top of JD. I don't think I could ever know another way if I tried.

I do actually have many riveting stories that could be told, more media-worthy perspective, and more Fort Hood shooting topics that could be of interest. I have done some more things in support of JD, maybe some more dramatic and jaw dropping than anything else I've done before. But most of that information is either off limits (and who would've ever thought I'd hear of such a thing) or would start a barrage of questions and follow ups and phone calls that I just don't have the capacity to follow through with, emotionally nor physically.

Supporting JD means more than keeping his memory alive these days. It's now about using this situation to do much bigger things. And at the moment, I'm a working, traveling mom, and that has to take priority.

So what would I write about? How I still cry every time I see a soldier at the airport? Methinks that one's been in several blog posts already. I do, however, think it's some sort of cruel joke that I'm being forced to confront the grief I'm now trying to stuff as I get stuck with a 2 hour layover at the Atlanta airport. The airport that swarms with uniforms, as Fort Benning and Fort Stewart are close. Benning is where (most?) soldiers do their basic training, so the amount of baby-faced bald privates around here are about enough to make me assume the fetal position if I let it.

And btw, I know where your sick minds are right now. ;)

Although many might disagree and remind me of how dramatic I still very much am, I think I'm quite the iron-clad soul these days. It's both good and bad, as I find it hard to deal with the little "meaningless" things and have little tolerance for incompetence or whining. It also makes me very vulnerable to the things I really do love, because I feel like there is so little of that left, I become more dependent on it than I should be. I'm just really over the whole self pity, selfish grief thing. It's a miserable place to live, and a very hard place to get out of.

It's also made me slap myself in the middle of some very desperate moments, as I'm clinging to some things and being so unable to be independent. The perspective you gain from a loss like this changes your life. I am seeing for the first time that I'm not really as much of a victim of outside situations, but that I am more of a victim of myself, and the codependent, self pitying person I can be when I use the words "me" and "JD" so often together. I don't like that girl much anymore. I get so mad every time I see her. But I can't make her go away sometimes. I can definitely see how people get in to trouble with self medication. Sometimes it seems like the easiest way out is to rely on something or someone else to numb yourself, when obviously you are just doing some self mutilation on top of your already throbbing wounds.

I guess you kinda get to a point where you feel like nothing can phase you, even though that's totally not true. I equate it to being doused in gasoline and and set on fire, the level of pain since losing JD. There are a few things worse than being set on fire I imagine. Just a few. But every time you look in the mirror, or in this case, an airport full of soldiers, you see your burnt, scarred body that you will have for life.

I remember being at this airport like it was yesterday with JD. I remember coming here with my mom and seeing my baby brother march in front of me at his graduation ceremony. The pictures from that day are all over this blog and everywhere. In fact, I can probably pass by the Burger King around the corner here at the airport and have a good cry over a post basic-training-JD whopper if I really wanted to. Kinda like when you have a breakup in middle school and put in the mixed tape to force yourself into a pity party. Why do we do that? And middle school? Who am I kidding? :/

I'm gonna make a creepy confession. I took a picture of this couple while waiting for a plane. They're gonna be so weirded out if they ever come across this. I apologize in advance if they do. It was just a big moment for me. They were sitting like JD was at this airport, waiting to go home. Same proud, tired looks on their faces. It was definitely a flashback. I'll be honest and say I was hoping it was a brother and a sister. But the he kissed her. No matter - it still touched me. I'm turning into the creepy people watcher at the airport that takes inconspicuous photos of people and makes up stories about them. I just need a lot of cats and I'll be officially crazy.


It's raining at all of these airports. Every freaking one of them. It was raining for 2 days before I left. Raining in Indiana. Raining baby-faced bald privates. There it is again ;)

I'm positive I've told the story about how JD loved the rain as a baby and would sit in front of the glass door and just stare at it. I'm sure I've talked about how he sang Milli Vanilli's "Blame it on the Rain" before he could really talk, so it was "bwame it on da wane."

So really I thought the days of extreme grief were wane-ing. Ba dum ching.

And I didn't think I had many of those ugly gut-cries left in me. Until the other night, during the downpour, I cried. A lot. The first year after JD died, I remember feeling weird but very passionate about not wanting JD to be cold during the winter. It absolutely killed me to remember him being lowered into the ground, then seeing snow cover him up later on. I guess it surprised me that the same thoughts came back over 2 years later. I laid in bed the other night crying, thinking he was getting soaked. Like he was gonna drown from all of this water. How absurd. But it was a very real feeling and I couldn't shake it. Of course I know he can't feel it. But it's still not an image I could turn off.

I guess maybe the rain is getting to me. It drove me to a blog. I totally get Milli Vanilla's epic song now.

"You can blame it on the rain, cuz the rain don't mind." ~Milli Vanilli

Amish Grace

Another August passed, another birthday for JD. I suffer from a lot of guilt for not being able to do for JD what I did last year. I can say all day long that I'm too busy (entirely true), but even if I had all of the free time in the world, I could never muster up the amount of emotional energy it took to honor him like that again. That makes me feel so guilty.

Perhaps not as guilty as I felt on my own birthday this year. People told me that this would happen...that it's common. I'm here turning another year older, living, and he's not. It sounds like a big pity party, so simplistic and immature. It totally is.

Although my friends made it another wonderful day, making me feel really special that I'm alive, I found myself making jokes that it felt good to be turning 22. Not for a few days did I realize that 22 is the age that JD only lived to be, and I really believe it was some sort of subconscious Freudian slip thing. No, I'm not going to use every holiday and birthday as an excuse to be down in the dumps. But I can't help it when it is.

I look at pictures of JD now and I am still in shock that he is dead. There is one in particular that haunts me. In print, even on this computer screen, he looks like he's looking in to my soul. I also love this picture because he looks strong, not scared, and competent. I like to remember him like this.


It is no secret that my life has recently drastically changed. I find it almost to be an out-of-body experience every day. I'm living a new life with a new me, because JD's death and Nov 5 changed me forever.

In fact, when I interviewed for my new job, I found the dead brother word vomit spewing like a bad night at China Buffet.

Are you comfortable speaking in front of crowds?

"Oh yea. My brother died and I've been doing some public speaking, including New Year's Eve in front of 50,000 people."

Are you comfortable with this industry being mostly male dominated?

"Oh sure. My dead brother was in the Army, so I'm use to rooms filled with testosterone and potty mouths."

You'd think I didn't want the job.

I realized that I have really grown when I say I truly care less and less about what people think. I figured, if that was too much for them, then I'd better look for something else anyway. Glad it wasn't ;)

I realized that I'm not quite as far down the road of "moving on" as I thought I'd be by now. Cubicle of the year award anyone?

I meet a lot of people with this job. I also drive a lot, which makes for a lot of time to think before I speak (for once! ha!). I use to write these blogs in the shower. Now I write them on I-35. That highway has lead me back home to my closest Oklahoma friends, all the way down to Fort Hood to honor and remember JD. At 5:00 in Dallas, it leads me to swearing.

Even with a new car, the traffic is brutal, simply because I don't sit still well. I have a feather duster in my car, a nail file, endless amounts of melted food and I'll admit I do all my Facebook checkups on all you crazies during rush hour (notice I said you crazies, not me stalker. Perspective is everything). But I do a lot of thinking about all of the change in the last couple of years, and most of that includes JD. I miss him so, so much still.

Just a few days ago, I sat with a co-worker of sorts and we shared stories. She told me about her grandmother who, NO LIE, died for an HOUR 3 days earlier, opened her eyes after everyone was saying goodbye to her, and is up watching All My Children today. She was completely dead, flat-lined with no pulse for an hour. I was in tears listening to her. Just because I know what it's like to stand over a dead body and want to pray them back to life. It took me back to standing over JD in his coffin, repeating, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry this happened to you. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I so wish that had worked with him.

Still can't type that one without tears.

She listened to the whole story about JD. She was so genuinely interested, and it meant so much to me. It had been a long time since I replayed the night of Nov 5. So as I recited it to her, I cried again. It was actually a little comforting to me to know that I still cared for him so much and that no amount of time was gonna make that go away. Comforting, not frustrating. Strange, huh.

And then it just became like a movie. You can't write this stuff. I went to the restroom I saw a uniformed soldier in the car dealership, and, like I always do, went up to him to shake his hand and thank him for his service. He looked young, like JD, so handsome. He said "thank you ma'am" like they all do and then I went back to talk to my friend. A few minutes later, he actually came into her office, escorted by a young lady, who I thought might be his wife when I saw her in the lobby with him.

"April, this is my brother that I talk about all of the time. He just got out of school and he's here visiting us before he is stationed at Fort Lewis."

After hearing my story, my co-worker kept looking at me, ready to catch me if I lost it. But I sat and had an engaging conversation with him. He used words like "excited" to be in the military and "ready to go." His sister beaming with pride beside him. Needless to say I was living vicariously through these beautiful, clueless siblings, and wanted them to stay and talk forever so I could listen to what it would be like if JD was still here.

It didn't make me as sad as it did proud. I wanted to thank HER for supporting her brother. But that was one of the few times I thought the dead brother story was not appropriate :/

While in some training for the new job, I met another incredible person, firefighter Joe. We all introduced ourselves, and introduced himself as a former NYC firefighter. The fact that we began this particular training on 9/11 made me very curious to talk to him.

So, with no shame of course, I asked him if he was a firefighter during 9/11/01.

Yea, I was on the 28th floor of tower 1.

!!!!!!!!!!!

I tried not to make him relive anything he didn't want to, but I could tell that the anniversary events were affecting him. The next day, I felt so honored when he opened up to me (after the dead brother confession of course) and told me some of the most horrific details I may have ever heard.

I don't even want to repeat them, in case there is a 9/11 victim's family member that might read this. I just know that thinking of bullets going into my brother and stopping his heart immediately had no comparison to thinking about how other people died that day. I don't usually like to play the one-up game. But I couldn't whine about JD to him much after that.

I was trying to hide the tears streaming down my cheeks, when, in his very New York accent said, "You know, I've seen burnt bodies, dead babies before. It's my job. But you can't imagine the things I saw on and after 9/11." God bless this man, and all of the others who were directly affected by that day.

I also met, in the same training, a man who's brother died 10 years earlier. He was unable to talk about him at all, but after I placed a card on his seat the next day, I felt like God truly has put me in the right place again. These two guys are my new buddies and I really feel a connection to them both. I'm not sure they have experienced programs like TAPS for support, so I feel like just sharing with them that they are not alone was helpful to them and to me.

The next week, I met another co-worker who's brother died. So I have no guilt now about introducing myself as Leila, proud sister of SPC JD Hunt, who heroically died in the Fort Hood shooting. I'm not using it. God is.


My mom sent me a movie on JD's birthday. She spent the day watching it, and I know his birthday was very hard for her too. She asked me to take the time to watch it, because she knew about my feelings of forgiveness.

The movie is called Amish Grace...a Lifetime original :) To be honest, I haven't even sat down and watched a minute of TV in 3 months. But I figured I'd make good use of my time assembling Ikea furniture with an Allen wrench and watch it. You can literally assemble your life with an Allen wrench, by the way.

The movie is based on a true story.

It really moved me, after feeling like I was "too busy" to be sad about JD anymore. The movie/story is about the man who opened fire in an Amish school in Pennsylvania in October of 2006. Just like Fort Hood, a familiar face came into the school and killed many young people. The story line alone was heart wrenching. The acting wasn't terrible either (thank you, Kimberly Williams Paisley). So when, once again, I watched a mom crying over her dead child's body, I felt every single emotion with her. My Allen wrench was soaked in tears.

However, it was not the similarity of events that moved me as much as the similarity of moral conviction. I totally think I was Amish in a past life. Wait. Do they believe in that? Nevermind.

Even the parallel of how (in the movie), one of the Amish mothers became friends with a reporter covering the story. That really comforted me. I have seen so many compassionate hearts over the last two years, many of them reporters (despite what their reputation is sometimes). I am proud to call some of the most incredible reporters my friends now too. There are some stories that I guess they just can't tell without it affecting them personally.

The story was a national tragedy, but the thing that made it stand out was that the Amish mothers and fathers of the children killed actually went to the wife of the murderer (he took his own life after shooting the children) and told her they forgive him.

She had so much guilt, almost disgust with herself...so much shame and disgrace. She could not fathom how these people could offer her their hand of peace and love after what her husband did. They had children of their own. The Amish people responded to her with a line that I have been sharing a lot. My new favorite line.

"Forgiveness comes without condition, or it doesn't come at all."

A lot of people can say they'll forgive someone if they feel remorse or somehow "make it up to them." But these people asked no questions, and immediately forgave, because that is what we are called to do.

I believe anything is forgivable. Anything is forgivable. Anything.

If I didn't, my faith and my morals would be a joke. I'd love to make a list of forgivable things vs. non forgivable things:

Forgivable: little white lies, being late for a date, jaywalking, speeding, not showering every day

Not forgivable: big (black?) lies, being late for yoga, naked jaywalking, the creation of crickets, (God and I WILL talk over this one some day) and improper use of the spellings of "they're, their and there"

THEY'RE going to dinner. It is THEIR turn to pay for dinner. We are having dinner over THERE. Okay, clearly a ridiculous pet peeve of mine.

The movie just continued with beautiful words.

"When we do not seek vengeance for our pain and we open our hearts to the healing light of forgiveness, the darkness is banished, and evil is no more."

"Hate is a very big, very hungry thing with lots of sharp teeth" (father speaking to his daughter about her sister who was killed in the shooting) "It will eat up your whole heart and leave no room left for love."

I really like that one, because I feel like it's so true. When I get consumed with swearing in traffic and resentment of family situations and a woe-is-me sort of attitude, there really is not much room left for snuggles and happiness, especially when it is so important in the limited time I have with my kids now.

I forgive easily, so I suppose I'm not really a saint, as I've been blessed with this sort of ease as part of my makeup that I don't really work hard for (in almost every situation. I must disclose).

I'm even learning to forgive myself a little more. Maybe I do have a little bit of that Amish grace in me. I love their way of thinking up there in the north. They're amazing people to learn from.

Separation

It is obvious that I don't write as much anymore. It is not for lack of inspiration, and certainly not for lack of material. Quite the opposite, I would argue...system overload.

Most of these posts, for "J", have been to try to process JD's death and to honor him by sharing memories. I do, however, feel the need for the occasional personal update so that I can answer the same question as it arises from 100 different people. Or before it does.

I am writing this with permission from my husband, and have thought long and hard about the need to even write this. And there is one.

It has been no secret that I have immersed myself in my brother's death for the last year and a half. And maybe just a secret to myself, only recently revealed, that I have sacrificed a lot by doing so. I'm not sure I can apologize at this point however, because I am still waiting on the book titled Exactly What to Do When Your Brother Is Murdered. For Dummies.

I am certain I did as much to help myself and others as I did harm over the last year and a half.

The remedy to the chaos and pain of JD's death for me was to try to control it. I tried to be at the front of all information, all ceremonies, all support groups, all hearings and meetings and even tried to beat the media to get information before I read things that I didn't know about, which is not easy to do, let me tell you. It was a full time job for the last year and a half, not counting the one as a stay-at-home mom.

Neither job pays monetarily, by the way. But they are the most important and rewarding jobs I've ever had. And the most demanding. I'm looking for a paying one, by the way. Badly. Please email me if you know of one. I do have a college degree, you know. I forgot for a while.

I don't like being out of control. And before I beat myself up, without trying to sound extremely vain, I will say I think I helped many people along the way, with intention of doing so. I couldn't provide help for myself a lot of the times, but I did know how to reach out to others. I also felt like helping them was also helping me.

I have tried to limit the things I once tried to control, and I find it both humbling and disappointing when people contact me for things I can no longer do. But it took a long time to see that I was ignoring the fact that I was in need of helping myself, and couldn't address it until I limited some of the many things I was doing. To this day, I get emails from people I feel like I could truly help, but I have had to say no so that I can focus on prioritizing my life. It's been so hard!

Things like helping grieving family members are so hard to say no to. I have gotten much better about not feeling the need to shout out my brother's name at every opportunity, however. I feel like he is honored and remembered by so many, and that's important to me, because I always felt like it would mean so much to him...to be remembered and acknowledged for the great life he lived.

Just today I was able to turn down an interview with a big cable/satellite station, whereas it would've been an impossibility for me a year ago. I felt like I needed to take every opportunity to make sure JD was remembered. But now I can, with the advice of good friends to help, decipher what is helpful and what is not, and what is used to push political agenda vs truly honor my brother.

But I looked up one day and all of my son's teeth were gone, and my daughter was talking about Justin "Beaver" when she had previously only known songs by Barney the purple dinosaur.

I'll admit - I missed a lot of their lives in the last year and a half. It was pointed out to me along the way, and it only angered me, because I didn't know how to do regular life with a brother in the ground. Or in the light.

Watch this, by the way, if you have an extra 45 minutes. My friend Bob. Hit by an IED while covering the war in Iraq. He has done many great things for people with brain injuries as well as has an incredible organization for helping to reintegrate our nation's injured heroes (both hidden and physical injuries) back into their communities. And this is a topic that most of my blog was about in the early stages.

http://abc.go.com/watch/primetime-nightline-beyond-belief/SH55131205/VD55138047/the-other-side?rfr=bing

http://remind.org/about_us

Anyway, as a member of many different "worlds", I've seen one common denominator, and that's that many people struggle similarly, yet no one knows the exact fingerprint of your struggles, so compassion, rather than judgment, is they key to being able to understand how to be a good listener. This simple knowledge can be a great source of comfort for people during the hard times.

I recently completed a 2 day program to become a peer mentor for TAPS, which is recognized by the American Grief Academy. This certainly doesn't make me a counselor or an expert on grieving. I'd say my experience would more so, or perhaps my time in therapy alone :/ I love when I start thinking in terms of what my therapist would say. Like instances where I try to feed my emotions with a cheeseburger or Lululemon. Therapy is good! I would be so far behind in my growth without it.

Some of the most valuable knowledge I've gained in these struggles with grief and life has been how to be more responsible for my own feelings. As a peer mentor, and as a member/leader/supporter of other groups, it can be difficult to not absorb other people's stuff. I remember last year when I went to the first TAPS seminar after JD died, listening to every one's stories and how greatly it affected me. I came home with swollen eyes and what I felt like was a cracked rib from crying so hard. I knew a lot of that was the fresh sadness of JD's death, but I also literally felt the pain of other people's grief as I listened to their stories, and it was beautiful and horrible and completely draining.

On a side note, one thing I've learned is that it is very confusing to say you "lose" someone when they die. It is the discomfort of our culture in talking about death. But I've learned the more appropriate, even if uncomfortable, term is just dead. Died. Death. Death death die die dead dead dead. Say it, people. We're not talking about underwear or "unmentionables." People die. If you lose them, please go find them and bring them back, along with your car keys. My brother died. He's not lost. He's an infantryman. I think he knows where he's going. Now, it is the separation of people of faith or religion who like to say "passed on" or went to be with God. Which of course, I'm ok with also. Thank you Darcie Sims.

Learning to not absorb other people's stuff, yet be supportive is a true skill. It is not only helpful in grief, but in life. Very, very much. In fact, I think in the moments where you can master this, you are giving such a gift to the person you are listening to and to yourself. To be able to listen without trying to fix and still be able to walk away and carry on your life is truly important! In so many ways. In support groups, in friendships, in marriage, in parenting. I have a small group of close friends who are very good at this. They are scattered all over the country (and one down the street). It's not because I'm picky about friends, it's because they are hard to find. The ones who are endlessly supportive are the ones who can always be a friend without absorbing it as their personal problem. Otherwise, they'd be exhausted within a month and be done.

I can't tell you how many times I have not been able to do this in parenting alone. I often let my kids and their chaos dictate my mood and life. Who wouldn't! Need a break from all of this serious heaviness? Let me entertain you with my most recent Facebook status.


I really practiced my skills in not absorbing things I cannot control here. Ok, it's a stretch to relate this to my blog topic, but I had to fit it in somewhere. It's hilarious. And mortifying. And hilarious. I wanted to write a post on this entirely alone, because the aftermath of my son taking up for my daughter, because "it wasn't her fault" and "we were NOT fighting," was truly reminiscent of what a brother and sister do when they are together. It made me so proud of them and also made me miss JD even more. I'm so glad they have each other to lean on.

Not absorbing other people's stuff is not to be confused with not being passionate or caring about someone else's struggles. But not owning someone else's problems is so, so huge. I can't say it enough. It's an epiphany that is changing my life!

I can be so much more to so many people by doing this. Everyone can. But it's not easy to do. In fact, by the time you learn how, you may have to try it on the next person you encounter, as the damage done by not doing it may be irreversible.

Having said that, as weird as this is, I'm writing, on a blog, so I don't have to explain it a million times, that Mitch and I are separating. Please don't absorb it. But thank you for listening. It is not really open for opinions or judgment or fixing to anyone but the two of us. I am simply writing it here so that the many, many friends I have and have made over the last year and a half will not ask why my address has changed and make me rehash parts of the story that are simply too long and exhausting to explain entirely. My cousin, whom I've always said is more like my sister, went through a divorce several years ago. I didn't hear from her for over a year, which was uncommon for us, as we grew up sharing everything and talking often. Now I know why. I'm sorry, Angela.

I truly value the friends who say, "I still love you and I am here for you" and that's it. Anything beyond that is that absorbing/fixing thing I mentioned, and it is not helpful to me...or you. Our pastors and counselors and therapists have done very well with that for us. And just because it didn't "work" doesn't mean they didn't do well. We have done everything "right" according to the book, Exactly What to Do When Your Brother Is Murdered and Your Family Suffers and You Try to Work Through the Already Tough Issues of Marriage. For Dummies. It's a long title...I'm not sure it all fits on the cover. But if we've truly read anything close to this non existent book, it's this one. We could be contributing authors for sure.

Of course it's devastating, and of course we did not want this for our kiddos. But good 'ol Dr. Phil says, "Kids would rather say they came from a broken home than to live in one." Having said that, I still accept prayers that everything will "work out for the best," however God interprets that.

Mitch is an incredible dad. I am an incredible mom. I roll my eyes at a lot of opinions on my marriage, but I don't tolerate any of our parenting. I'm not even sure I'm defending something that has happened, but I'm certainly putting it out there for any potential judgment. There is no room for it here...not welcome. Allow me to swear on my holy blog. I will totally go ape shit on your ass if you say one effing word about my kids.

How scary am I right now? God still loves me and my potty mouth. :)

And I know the gossip and nasty thoughts will go where they may, but I will never allow anyone to convince me that my marriage "failed". I have 2 incredible children and a wealth of knowledge and life experience. I don't see that as a failure. My great friend always says "everything happens for you, not to you." The gift of not absorbing other people's stuff is also very helpful in times like this. My other favorite saying (and book, I think?) is, "What you think of me is none of my business." The faster my kids can learn that one, the better.

I won't delve in to the many weird comments you receive when you tell people you are separating. Along with death, there is a slew of strange catch phrases that our society has been fed to vomit whenever someone tells them bad news, to avoid discomfort, or truly thinking it is the right thing to say. My new favorite is, "You guys just looked like the perfect couple!"

Gosh, that's helpful. Sort of a passive aggressive, thoughtless statement, in which the meaning is interpreted to me as "you really did fool us, you trickster, you" (as if that was our intention) or just pointing toward that failure notion again. Don't be embarrassed if you've said this to me. It's just my passion to minimize cliched, thoughtless phrases from this world, one person at a time :)

This post might be entirely too confident, to think anyone really cares about my personal life. But to those who love it like a soap opera, you're welcome. It's really more for the genuine friends who care about our hearts, and I'll be honest, I didn't realize we had so many. And I'm so, so grateful for them! I just don't have all 200 of their emails, so this is what will have to work.

And I've never been too shy about the dirty stuff. I'm not perfect. He's not perfect. And anyone who is can cast the first stone.

I felt compelled to put it here, staying true to "writing for J" because there was recent conversation in one of my groups of how many people divorce after the death of a family member. It's really kind of old news, but once again, I'm not sure many people expected it to fall into the sibling category as those affected. That's kind of the point I keep trying to make. Not many people understand why the death of "just your brother or sister" would affect you so much. I mean, it's not like it was your KID or anything (which seems to be nearly the only socially acceptable thing to mourn so intensely to many who have never experienced loss. Er, death.) That is why I say, yes, I lost my son. Is that the only way you'll get how hard it's been? Okay then. He was my son.

My hopes are that part of the purpose of this post will be to even make one person feel "normal" if they are struggling with their marriage after a death in the family. It is so, so not uncommon. And I pray that it can be worked through. Not all of those struggles have to end in divorce. I believe that. But I hope people will recognize how much it intensifies issues that are already present in marriages. And if it does end in divorce, you can bet I'll not judge. I'll listen and not absorb or try to fix something I have no business trying to fix.

My focus is these guys. Even if it may have seemed as though it hasn't always been, they are at the top of my life. They are my life. Prayers for them are also accepted and truly appreciated.

Development on the Trial

http://www.abc6.com/story/15052968/fort-hood-suspects-defense-has-few-options?clienttype=printable

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/43658055


By ANGELA K. BROWN
Associated Press

FORT WORTH, Texas (AP) - The Army psychiatrist charged in the worst mass shooting on a U.S. military installation will be tried in a military court and face the death penalty if convicted, Fort Hood's commanding general announced Wednesday.

Maj. Nidal Hasan is charged with 13 counts of premeditated murder and 32 counts of attempted premeditated murder in the November 2009 shooting spree on the Texas Army post.

A military judge has not been named in the case, and it was not immediately clear when Hasan will be arraigned in a Fort Hood courtroom. He must plead not guilty because it is a death-penalty case, according to military law.

Lt. Gen. Donald Campbell's decision for Hasan to face a military trial and the death penalty came as no surprise and echoed the recommendations of two Army colonels who also reviewed the case.

"I believe the Army as an institution has long been planning to go this route," Hasan's lead attorney John Galligan told The Associated Press on Wednesday from his office near Fort Hood, about 125 miles south of Fort Worth.

Many relatives and friends of those who survived the attack on that sunny autumn day reveled in the news Wednesday on social media sites. Staff Sgt. Jeannette Juroff, who was working in a nearby building that day and helped wounded soldiers, said many people affected by the tragedy feel that death is the only appropriate punishment.

"If he's convicted and sentenced to death, maybe the (victims') families can get closure because he won't be here anymore and we'll no longer have to talk about him," Juroff told the AP.

Leila Hunt Willingham, whose brother, Spc. Jason Dean "J.D." Hunt was killed that day, said she has mixed emotions about how Hasan's case will proceed.

"I'm glad I'm not the one deciding what happens to Hasan," she said. "People think the default (emotion) is always anger and revenge. ... No one seems to understand that the outcome of this will not bring any more peace or closure than what I can get on my own. No matter what happens to Hasan, my brother is still dead."

Keely Cahill Vanacker, whose father Michael Grant Cahill was the lone civilian killed in the rampage, said she doesn't think about Hasan.

"This may be unusual and certainly not everyone's opinion, but worrying about what happens to the man who killed my father - I don't spend time thinking about it," Vanacker said. She said she has "full faith in the prosecution team. There will be a fair trial and justice will be done."

Galligan had urged Fort Hood's commander at a meeting in May not to seek the death penalty against his client, saying such cases were more costly, time-consuming and restrictive. In cases where death is not a punishment option for military jurors, soldiers convicted of capital murder are automatically sentenced to life imprisonment without parole.

Galligan has declined to say whether he is considering an insanity defense for his client. He has refused to disclose results of a military mental health panel's evaluation of Hasan.

The three-member panel determined whether Hasan is competent to stand trial and his mental state during the shootings. It also determined if he had a severe mental illness that day, and if so, whether such a condition prevented him from knowing at the time that his alleged actions were wrong.

Hasan, 40, was paralyzed from the waist down after being shot by police the day of the rampage. He remains jailed in the Bell County Jail, which houses defendants for nearby Fort Hood.

Hasan has attended several brief court hearings and an evidentiary hearing last fall that lasted about two weeks. He sometimes took notes and showed no reaction as 56 witnesses testified, including more than two dozen soldiers who survived gunshot wounds.

Witnesses testified that a gunman wearing an Army combat uniform shouted "Allahu Akbar!" - which is Arabic for "God is great!" - and started shooting in a small but crowded medical building where deploying soldiers are vaccinated and undergo other tests. The gunman fired rapidly, pausing only to reload, even shooting some people as they hid under tables or fled the building, witnesses said. He fatally shot two people who tried to stop him by throwing chairs, and killed three soldiers who were protecting civilian nurses, according to testimony.

The gunman was identified as Hasan, an American-born Muslim who was scheduled to deploy to Afghanistan the following month. Before the attack, Hasan bought a laser-equipped semiautomatic handgun and repeatedly visited a firing range, where he honed his skills by shooting at the heads on silhouette targets, witnesses testified during the hearing.

References

I've learned that all references are good references. Even bad references.

I've recently had to put together a resume. Man, have I been out of this game for a while. Apparently you don't even USE resumes anymore. They are so five years ago. You find your job on twitter, which is linked in to linkedin, which is a link on your about me page, which also has your twitter link. :-/

I was thinking about references and who I would go to to say nice things about me. Turns out my top 3 references at this point would be the return lady at Target, the security guard at (the same) Target, and my zumba instructor. Somebody needs a life.

I was talking to someone the other day about what I'm qualified and/or what I want to do. I told them that I am really good at wiping butts and I plan a wicked birthday party. They told me that I was qualified to work at a nursing home, for sure. Pass.

I'm traveling this week to a TAPS seminar. I am interested in seeing how this year will be different from last year's trip. I'm learning through mine and several others' journey of grieving a loved one's death, sometimes the points you reference most are the worst ones.

I've been using the phrase "in the year following JD's death..." a lot lately. Even I can see at this point, although it still feels like yesterday, that the point of reference for one of the worst times of my life was that year. So then I gauge how sorry I need to feel for myself according to that time. Usually nothing can top it.

I went back and looked at last year's blog post, and I suppose that is what this blog is for. I can read how sad and desperate I was and see how much better of a place I'm in now. Then there's the obvious of what my brother's resting site looked like then, and how much more honor it has received now.

I reference the look on the faces of people in my family in pictures before and after his death, and how no amount of sleep or face cream will be able to mask a loss so deep for the rest of our lives.

When I think about the last fourth of July we spent with JD at our grandma's farm, I realize how much time is passing since I've heard his voice. He helped my kids with their fireworks that year, and I see how much they've grown since then. I realize how long we've been without him when I reference this photo of my then small son and at how big he is now.When I complain about what I have openly expressed disgust about on Facebook, flying maggot worms called June bugs (I just found out that they are grubs with wings, and I've been more repulsed than ever by them since), I reference what our soldiers at war might encounter on their "front porch", as if they have one.When I think about all of the mattress sales going on during this holiday weekend, so that we may all get a perfect night's sleep, I reference this:I shared a picture with my friends recently about how windy it was one day last week in Texas. I referenced the windmill and beautiful flags whipping in the wind. Then I felt silly.

I know this similar prod of appreciation has been circulating in chain emails, and I'm not very original here. But those are the chain emails I actually open and read. I don't feel like the pictures are fabricated or exaggerated to make the lives of our soldiers look worse than what they are. Quite the opposite. So I always appreciate the reminders of all we take for granted.

I asked a fellow gold star sibling how they felt about having so many patriotic holidays in our country. I was relieved to hear they felt the same - so proud that there are so many opportunities to recognize the great country we live in and those who defend it, but also kind of bittersweet that, combined with our loved ones' birthdays/rebirth (death) day, that's a whole lot of reminders of what we've lost. It can be quite exhausting, to be honest. But I find it comforting now that I've found this circle of people who feel the same way. I love how we go around the horn and make sure everyone is okay during these ever-present reminders of our losses. It's almost like we are in our own sort of AA support group, holding each other accountable for making it through the patriotic holidays. "Are you ok? Are you gonna make it through this one?"

This Independence Day, I'll be honest, I reference this picture when I think of what it costs to be free. I miss my little brother so much still. But I'm so proud of what he lived and died for. That's why I can reference this horrible picture and still say happy Independence Day.

Memorial Day Thoughts

I belong to a few groups. I suppose it's been part of how I stay distracted or occupied when times are tough. While most of them have been centered around JD and all things military and patriotic, a few of them are completely unrelated to him.

Memorial Day kind of snuck up on me this year. Last year I was the keynote speaker at the Plano, Texas Memorial Day Ceremony, and after a long week of traveling to Fort Hood, I guess I was more in the mindset of honoring the fallen.

I know every day is Memorial Day for a lot of people like me. I'll never forget when my son's best friend drove down from Oklahoma with his family, and he pulled up and saw the constant display of flags and pictures and red, white and blue decor and told his mom, "Boy, every day is Memorial Day at the Makai's house, isn't it?" I thought it was very perceptive for a then five year-old.

But in the past few months, I have been trying to figure out how "normal people" live and I have been having discussions and friends that don't have anything to do with JD or military or death. And since I did a lot of memorializing last weekend, I suppose I had washed my hands of Memorial Day.

Okay, not really - I just wanted to use that pun, because I really do wash my hands with patriotism. This is my new favorite thing. I'm not a germaphob, but I do have 2 kids who put their dirty hands in their mouths all day, so I buy this stuff by the gallon. I'm loving that even soap can be political. I know a lot of people might be surprised that I picked this red elephant. I guess it is to remind myself of my red friends and that we can all get along...like carrying a little bit of peace in my pocket. And you know how Christians say the best way to lead people to Christ is by walking with one foot in the ditch? Yeah, it's something like that too ;)

Anyway, I was fine to go to cookouts and even participate in stimulating the economy because of the "sales" (and can I give you a hint, people? Mattresses are always on sale. I'm just sayin'. If there are sales, people will come. And if people will come, there will be sales).

So we went to a great block party last night where our friends rented a margarita machine and a huge water slide and put it in the median of the road. It was a good ol' Texas party and it was a lot of fun! My sweet friend, the hostess, said she even bought some extra flag decor because she's read my blog and wanted to remember the reason for the holiday. Their house looked very beautiful.

And although I wasn't going to deck myself out in all things JD, I did bring a flag cake, similar to the one he had for his birthday before he deployed to Iraq. It's the typical 3 minute patriotic cake that people who don't bake bring to parties. But I will say I got a little weepy thinking about singing happy birthday to JD in Oklahoma in 2007 and remembering how I made buttons for everyone to wear while he was deployed. He wore a big Uncle Sam hat...I'll try to find a picture somewhere.
But after about the 5th mention of other cook-outs and sales and non-patriotic events leading up to this weekend, I started to get a little frustrated, and decided to break out my JD gear, just as a little prod to make sure no one lost sight of the reason for the 3 day vacation.

I have been kind of surprised at how little people think about our military sacrifices in every day life. And let's be honest. Before JD joined the Army, I wouldn't say I thought about it every day either. Now that I'm trying to be "normal" again, I realize that the people who haven't lost someone in the military really tend to think Memorial Day is the weekend that grills go on sale. I have been so engulfed in ceremonies and events and people who live and breathe patriotism, so I suppose I'm trying to marry the two extremes sometimes.

So today I wore a flag shirt and JD's button and the sweatbands I made for people who run for JD to zumba. People asked me about him, and I was grateful, because it caused a lot of people to open up to talk about someone they lost or someone who has served that they know. Some people apologized and said they were sorry if they upset me by asking, and I said are you kidding?! I wore this so you would ask about him! Thank you!

I will say, the holiday got to me a little because I have not worn a lot of JD gear lately. A lot of my friends know that I have a little thing for camouflage, and they're always sending me pictures of something they find that I need to buy that reminds them of me/JD. And I usually do ;) I wrote about how my symbolic necklace broke during zumba one day, and I really haven't brought JD to the gym since then. Something about looking at him staring back at me in the mirror today really reminded me that he was gone again. Then our last stretching song was this, and I'll be honest, I was really crying during a pyramid pose. It looked a lot like sweat though, so I didn't make a blubbering fool of myself or anything.




"The storms are raging on a rolling sea
And down the highway of regret
The winds of change are blowing wild and free
But you ain't seen nothin' like me yet...

...There ain't nothin' that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends of the earth for you
Make you happy, make your dreams come true
To make you feel my love"

It just sort of reminded me what I've been doing for the last year and a half to honor JD, how much I wish I would've said to him or what I would've done just before he died, and how I'd go to the ends of the earth for him...and always would have.

I often try to spill some of my patriotism over in to my non JD-related groups. For instance, here's a pic for one of them. OOTD - after zumba today. My friends in that group are always so supportive when I bring up my brother.
If you don't know what I'm talking about, or why I'm on a counter top at the gym taking a picture of my butt, it's probably not your group.

And sometimes, you just gotta laugh. Even if it's just planking stoopid.
Okay, I'll stop with the inside jokes now. They are funny to the few who are in on them, but just annoying for anyone who isn't.

I'm like "Inception", I play with your brain. ~Pitbull/JLo

Backing up, I got a LONG massage yesterday by an incredible person. She was offering massages to family members who have lost someone in the military, as a gift for Memorial Day. I usually have a hard time accepting things on behalf of JD. I didn't do anything - I'm not a hero. I've never served, I didn't jump in front of any bullets. But after the stressful long drives last weekend to honor JD, I was having some major back problems, so I humbly accepted with gratitude. I know her through a gold star support group - her sister in-law lost her brave son, Peter Courcy 2 years ago. I am friends with Peter's mom, and I was so honored to have met his incredibly giving aunt and hear about her life as she gave me the incredible gift of back pain relief. I am still so humbled and grateful for her and am so glad to have made a new friend <3

I already thought about Peter often. I feel like I know him through the stories I've heard. I will be remembering him today.

And this morning, my family and I went to the Frisco, Texas Memorial Day ceremony. It was very beautiful - outside, in a park that my kids and I have gone to often. Most of my days have been memorial days, but when I see all of the flags proudly displayed, especially if it's mixed with the innocence of children (certainly my own children), I just get a huge lump in my throat. I thought I was done crying during the National Anthem. Turns out I'm not.
The ceremony was really lovely - and the drama of the helicopter circling to open the event and landing in the park was the kids' (and my) favorite part. Really cool! Here it is, just above the treeline, about to land.
Malia was super excited to see a tire bigger than she is. Not sure why - she's seen many of them. But it was super exciting today I guess.
And while I have a great deal of back pain relief, I did have to lay down on the grass today to relieve some of the remaining pain. I know I have an obsession with the clouds. For good reason today. So beautiful, laying there, listening to patriotic music and remembering my brother.

I've signed my kids up for an event that helps them deal with grieving a military family member. I'm not gonna say which one - crazy people out there following us around sometimes. I have been struggling over the past 18 months with exposing them to too much or forcing them to be sad if they are not. But I feel like it's important for them to go to these kinds of ceremonies and now talk about how losing a family member in the military is both a source of pride and extreme sadness, and how it affects everyone in the family.

I love teaching my kids about the pride part. I am grateful that they know about men and women who sacrifice so that they can go to school or ride their scooters on a public street safely.

And I'm grateful to the men and women who have ever put on a uniform...not just the ones who have died, but the ones who have lived.

I want to say thank you again to the people who visit JD's grave. I am reluctant to write about this part for many reasons. But today I received a picture from a VERY patriotic friend, who started an organization called "The Art of Encouragement". She does many things, but my friend (pageant girls are the BEST!) focuses on sending cards of appreciation and gratitude to those who have served in our military. Some veterans receive only one card at Christmastime, and I've heard many stories of how, if it weren't for her, they'd receive nothing. She is such a beautiful person.

She drove over an hour to visit JD today, and brought some beautiful things for his grave. I pray they will be there for a long time. But if not, they will be on this blog forever. Thank you, Ashley Hyde, for how you continue to honor JD and so many others who have sacrificed for us. Thank you for your dad's service. I hope many Americans will model their display of appreciation after the things you have done. JD's grave rarely looks so beautiful.
Finally, after coming to the conclusion that some people remember the fallen on Memorial Day, and some just don't. And that's okay, because I'm sure the fallen would argue that they served so that people don't have to have those kinds of worries every day, I had something stuck in my door.

I'll be honest, I am meeting lots of new people lately, so I'm going to have to really dig to find out which last name belongs to the new sweet face I've met (I remember first names well!). But thank you to the Lunas, who left this incredibly sweet card on my door today. Truly what Memorial Day is about.

I'm not bored

I just labeled my pictures for this blog post with letters. Let's just say I got to "Z" and then some.

This may look like a boring slide show of my life, but this post is being published for one top reasons for this blog. In the beginning, I was just vomiting grief onto the Internet. After a while, a lot of very caring people began writing me and other 11/5/09 victims wanting to know how we were holding up. After I spent months in front of the computer and with the iPhone permanently glued to my had (still haven't learned to let go of that one), I decided that this blog was a good source of telling a story one time instead of 500 times. So is the reason for this particular post.

A while back, I wrote about needing to step back from all things 11/5 and try to focus on what my life looks like after memorials and media and emails and politicians and meetings with attorneys and military officials. I can't say I've found it yet. But a lot of people seem to be mistaking my "break" for boredom lately, I think. So this might look like I'm trying to justify my busy life (who's isn't?) or ask for validation or attention for my vacation slide show, but really, I just need to process as well as inform anyone who thinks I'm bored.

So Mrs. Shaffer, here's my outline ;)

1) Son's amazing Harry Potter 7th birthday bash
2) Daughter's preschool graduation
3) Daughter's/my last week of school/work
4) Best friend's amazing surprise birthday party
5) Ten hour drive to Oklahoma in torrential rain to present amazing JD Hunt Memorial Scholarship to amazing young man
6) Six hour drive to hang wreathes on shooting site fence with amazing family and hang out with amazing GOLD STAR sibling (also in torrential rain)
7) Texts/phone calls/emails totaling well over 200+

Amazing, huh?

That's in 1 week, people.

Before I start my vacation slide show, I need to preface it with the fact that I would do EVERY single one of these again and I don't resent or regret or despise any of them. Each one is an amazing (okay I'm done with that word) post in itself. If I had one complaint though, I'd love for them to be a little more spread out. Even though I'm this busy a lot (a lot), this week takes the cake on shopping for a straight jacket.

And really, it's not a huge complaint, because I hate, hate, hate to sit still. I have gone back and forth over the past year and a half from being more active than one person is capable of being to feeling like a complete bump on a log with no motivation or purpose. But if I weren't doing all of this stuff right now, I'd make up something to do like go to the gym twice a day. Okay I do that too.

I try to make most of it healthy and productive. Some of it is just wasting time so I don't have to sit still and face anything too uncomfortable right now.

So my precious son turned 7 (holy legos...when did my baby grow up?). Every year we are obsessed with something new. I can remember every single birthday party he's had, because we go all-out with the current obsession of the moment. We seem to have one that tops them all. For my daughter, it was when mommy painted her face green to be the wicked witch (like that was a hard character for me) for her awesome Wizard of Oz party. She's asked for that party 3 years running now. I'd have to say this was the big one for my son. We've been preparing wizard supplies for the best Harry Potter party a kid could ask for, this side of Universal Studios. We apparently have a thing for wizards.
If you don't like or know anything about Harry Potter, you may think this is all cheesy and dumb. If you are a HP fan, you want to book me for your next party. And I ain't doin it. lol

I don't like to be compared to those crazy moms who hire P Diddy for their kid's sweet sixteen parties, but I love a good party. I want my kiddos to feel happy to have been born. I didn't take out any multiple mortgages or anything - I made everything (except the cake...and hold on to that one for a few paragraphs...my friend Amy is AM.AZ.ING).

But we're totally going to Chuck E. Cheese next year :-/

How does that relate to JD? At the very least, he would've been there. Not sure if he would've loved Harry Potter, but because my son and JD are so much alike, I think he would've been making potions with the kids for sure. Every birthday that goes by without JD really does make me sad because I look at the last pictures of him holding my kids, and their little chubby baby faces are just changing way too fast.

Speaking of precious baby faces, my baby girl also graduated from the best preschool in Texas last week.
Which meant that my last week at preschool watching 2 of the most wonderful babies is now over too. But I'm happy to say, I'm officially going to be a Monkey and a Tiger with the 3 year olds next year. :D

Look at these cuties. I'm already having withdrawals from rocking those powdery-smelling angels to sleep.
How does this relate to JD? It doesn't. It's just all sandwiched in my busy week that has a lot to do with him otherwise.

Speaking of angels, take another look at that lego Harry Potter cake. That was made by my BFF Amy. Yeah, she learned it on YOUTUBE. She made her first cake like this for my 30th (I mean TWENTY FIRST) birthday. She has since been beating off the cake orders with a stick. And for good reason. I told people to make sure they looked at the cake before they dropped their kids off at the party, and they walked passed this creation and said "Well, where is it? THAT'S A CAKE?!?" And of course my son was in absolute heaven. He said it was the best present of the entire party.

So because Amy is always doing amazing, mind-boggling things for other people, like also waking up at 1am when I'm banging on her door sobbing "My brother's dead! My brother's dead!" and coming over to watch my kids in the middle of the night as I drove to Oklahoma, I finally was in a state of mind to do something nice for her.

With the help of her friends and family, we planned a scavenger hunt type 29th birthday for her last week. I dropped a card off for her the night before her birthday and told her to be ready the next day. I took her to several places where either a friend or family member or gift card was waiting for her to spend and shop. We had frozen yogurt at our favorite place and went to several places and finished with a dinner with everyone gathered there waiting for her. It was a very nice evening. But still nothing compared to all she has done for me alone, not to mention the 15 people who participated in that day also. She is so amazingly generous and selfless.

I remember when JD was in Iraq and I told her how sad I was that he didn't get much mail for a while from anyone but me, she wrote the most incredibly sweet letter, thanking him for what he was doing and included pictures of her her family and wrote, "This is what you're fighting for, and we are so thankful for you."

So the rest really is related to JD.

On Friday, I was honored to drive to Tipton, Oklahoma to present the 2nd JD Hunt Memorial Scholarship to a Tipton High School graduate. I wrote about last year's trip/recipient here.

I haven't even reread that post, but I'm sure there were pictures of road signs in it, as I took more pictures like that this time. I love, love my small hometown. But I hate, hate the drive. Cow pastures and waving wheat can be beautiful scenery if you've never seen them, like if you lived up north or in Alaska or something. They are a powerful sedative when you've seen them all your life. Especially in the pouring rain.

A lot of people asked me why this usual 3 1/2 to 4 hour drive equaled to 10 hours of drive time for me this time. And that's where good ol' tornado season comes in. My thoughts and prayers are with the Joplin tornado victims. Living in tornado alley my entire life gives me a great understanding of the devastation that tornadoes can bring. I'm so sad for the families of the lives lost there.

I drove in torrential rain under a cloud that I swear was following me like that kid from Charlie Brown. And yes, I took pictures of it. Although I'm gonna go ahead and say that I'm not liking that the iPhone can clear up a picture to make it look less foggy than it really is. It makes for little support for my dramatic story on how bad the rain really was. Seriously, I could not see 3 feet in front of me at times and had to pull over several times, as I had my precious daughter snoozing in the back seat (jealous). And spare me the lectures on texting while driving if anyone is going there. I'd rather have hatemail on Fort Hood issues to be honest. Arriving alive meant occupying myself with conversations (some with only myself) on the phone and music and other things. I think I took 5-10 pictures of my leg too. Just kidding. I mean who would DO that?
As I approached the Oklahoma/Texas state line, I was kind of amazed at how the clouds parted and the sun started shining. Everything is bigger in Texas, but sometimes it's brighter in Oklahoma. I'm just sayin. They said I just missed a massive hail storm, but it looked like nothing but blue skies and happiness when I drove the 30 minutes into Oklahoma to Tipton. I was so happy to see this quaint little sign that I have grown to love covered in sunlight instead of rain.

I love going home to Tipton. Many more people now know about this sweet little town after last year's JD Hunt Celebration of Life day, but I am always reminded of the everybody-knows-your-name warm and fuzzy feeling when I drive by that sign.

At the awards assembly, I loved hearing how the same loving fun was being had in the small classes of 30 people and under, like awards being given for "most likely to taste something" in science class and hearing the teachers stand on the stage and tell inside jokes to their classes sitting in front of them. It is just something you don't see in big cities, and it is so priceless. Every kid there is somebody. It's exactly why my brother (and I) felt so accepted and loved there.

So on your left, you have 9th, 10th and 11th graders. Seniors in the middle (twenty-something). 6th, 7th and 8th graders in the group of chairs on the far right (a few of them can be seen in the next pic...well under 100). This is the size of the school JD and I were proud to graduate from.

So I wasn't speaking in front of hundreds this time, but I would argue that I was able to tell some of the most important people about JD again that day, and I'm so grateful to Tipton Schools for continuing to allow me to share him with others. Our aunt Debbie drove all the way from Norman, OK (2 1/2 hours) to be there also. She is so supportive of JD and my dad. That's a great sister for you.

This year's recipient is a young man named James Nunley. He joined the Army National Guard in September of 2010. He is going to AIT in June. When I emailed him and asked why he joined, he replied, "I love to help people and am honored to serve my country and state." It is this selfless and honorable attitude that reflects the spirit of my precious brother, and my family, friends and I were proud to award a $500 cash award to PV2 Nunley. He was incredibly gracious and has written me a couple of times saying how grateful he is to accept this award. He even thanked me and my family for what we do for the community, and I found it so humbling, that a young soldier would thank someone for just recognizing their sacrifice and service. This is the spirit of our service members that make me so proud of JD and what he was a part of.

Congratulations, James...and thank YOU.
As I mentioned, my daughter came with me. And just because she's adorable, and loved JD and he adored her, I'll share pictures of what a 5 year old does with mommy's camera phone when she's bored for an hour. I got on to her a lot for talking and squirming, but everyone around me assured me that she did pretty good for being bored for so long. I have no idea where she gets her fascination for cameras and taking pictures of herself.


After the assembly, my aunt, daughter and I had to stop and admire the gorgeous memorial constructed last November in honor of JD and other Tipton alumni who have lost their lives while serving our country. Something about seeing my innocent daughter stand under the names of those brave heroes was so poetic. Like they died to protect the innocent like her. My brother's picture on that wall brought tears to my eyes again. He was so stinking handsome.

And of course we left a 1987 penny for him there.
My daughter and I then briefly visited the Tipton Cemetery to try to find a classmate who was recently killed on his motorcycle. When you graduate from a class of 26 people, you don't just forget about a classmate. Brad Jones was a very sweet friend who stood in JD's Patriot Guard flag line at the cemetery the day we buried him. I know he's rockin' out with JD now.

We also visited my Uncle David's grave and brought him flowers. He died in 2003 while kayaking in Colorado. It was a very difficult loss as well, as Uncle David was a family favorite. He never had kids, but he treated his nieces and nephews like his own kids and teased us like an older brother would. He took us snow skiing and always bought Christmas presents for us, even if it was socks. I remember - he really bought us all socks one year. My cousins and I will never forget ol' Mr. Mogo, the character he lead us to believe was a real monster of a man made of rotting bones that lived in our grandma's basement. He even constructed a skeleton of some sort and put it in our grandma's yard and I remember we wouldn't come out of the house all day because of it. He died on his 47th birthday. I like to think my Tom Petty-loving, grow-your-own-food believing, healthy lifestyle nut Uncle David would be proud of the little hippie his niece has become.

After JD died, I really felt guilty for not paying more visits to his grave. I take flowers to him when I can now, and try to let my mom and aunts know that I understand now how it feels to lose a brother, and I'm sorry I didn't before.


And just because David (and Brad and even JD) would totally think this was funny: goats at the cemetery to mow the grass instead of a tractor. I love Tipton, Oklahoma.
So we started our trek back to Texas, but we had to stop at THE best soda shop in the country in Frederick, Oklahoma. The owners know me by name, and I'm quite sure I'd have bigger cholesterol problems than I already do if I lived any closer. I know I've written about it before.

I did it all for the cookies.
Not really, I just really wanted to use that line somewhere.

And I still cannot convince the snow cone stands here in Texas that a "lime on ice" is made by squeezing real limes onto the ice, not a syrupy mix. It's well known in these parts, and you just can't find it anywhere. I tried to make it at home with the Snoopy Snocone Machine. Not even close.

Malia agrees. She took one bite of those daily homemade cookies and said "MOMMY have you ever HAD these before? Do you come here when you always drive to Oklahoma?? I want to come with you ALL the time from now on, ok??"

So we headed back to Texas and the clouds of doom began to hover over the Volvo again. It took over 5 hours to get home in the torrential rain and hail. It was a mentally and physically exhausting drive. But after delivering the scholarship and sharing my brother with more wonderful people, the drive was justified all the way home, even if I did complain and shout expletives at people who apparently have never driven in any sort of precipitation. Not sure I've adopted the Texas motto yet.
So when I got home on Saturday, I thought the best thing to do to recover from a trip like that and an exhausting week would be to get back in the car and drive 3 more hours to another place.
Really though, I kept telling myself as I mentally prepared for this busy week, "Just make it to Sunday, Leila. If you can, you'll be bored again on Monday."

So I kissed my kiddos goodbye and headed to Fort Hood for kind of a last minute trip.

Last year around Memorial Day, the Cahill family organized the start of what has become a very therapeutic and lovely way to honor the victims of the 11/5/09 shooting. Mrs. Cahill, the wife of the heroic Michael Cahill, who died that day trying to stop the shooter by throwing chairs and charging him, organized our first meeting at the site of the shooting. The site was immediately fenced in and covered in razor wire after the shooting. She modeled a way to recognize the lives lost there after the Oklahoma City bombing site, where thousands of people left moments for the victims of that terrorist attack along the fence perimeter of the bombing site. I wrote about it last year.

The Cahills were kind enough to let me attend another gathering of wreath hanging and site clean up. Mrs. Cahill lives fairly close to Fort Hood and goes there often to keep the site tidy and make sure the flowers and other things are not too unsightly. The commanding general told us that if it was not unkempt, he had not problem with anything we wanted to do there.

I made another gaudy "don't anyone forget JD Hunt" thing and glued a 1987 penny to the "J". I hung the wreath and then stepped back to look at my placement. Really, I need to learn to reverse that order. There is quite a little over-the-top JD cluster going on there, and I know he would again be mortified at all the attention his sister brings to him.

My kids even contributed to hand-making a wreath for their uncle Jason this time. We wrote their names on 2 pinwheels and each of them put something on it. My son, of course chose a plastic army guy. My daughter added a beautiful plastic ring for him.

One of the Cahill daughters made 13 big, beautiful ribbons to hang for the 13 victims of the shooting. This is something the Cahills have been doing for a year. They replace the ribbons when they get tattered or faded. I am so honored to know them. Though we'd all agree we wish we didn't know each other, we can at the same time say that we are blessed that we do.

It was really heartwarming to again reflect on how much people care and respect the sacrifices made that day, and that my brother and the other 12 will not be forgotten. There were 13 flags there with their names on them (not done by me this time) and other things that brought tears to my eyes, like unit patches and lone flowers that people stuck through the wire of the fence as they paid respect to the lives lost there. I was so glad to see my dad's Christmas wreath still there under the numbers I painted and hung last November. We brightened it up with some new ribbon, but left the faded one that my dad signed for JD. I really love the way that these wreathes and things left in love brighten up the site that would otherwise be nearly unbearable to visit.




Then we left to find the other memorials that had my brother's name on (I'll explain "we" in a moment). For some reason, I could not locate JD's unit's memorial. After nearly living at Fort Hood for the past year and a half, between the trial, TAPS events, wreath hanging and other things, I felt quite confused by this. I was roaming the general area of the memorial, and I felt like I was walking around in my own home looking for the refrigerator that I visit daily. I dunno. Blame it on the tiring week. I never found it.

But I did find the memorial that was revealed on the 1 year anniversary of the shooting with the 13 names on it. I think this one is quite beautiful. The day it was revealed, I left my usual 1987 penny at the foot of it. A few people noticed it. I do it to feel like I'm giving JD something specific to him, so he knows that his sister is thinking of him in the places where he is honored.

I left some flowers there too. I was really surprised to see a little square wooden bowl in front of the memorial that was filled with dozens of coins. I'm not sure, but I'm assuming it is an unspoken word of visitors who decided to also show that they had also been to visit. I looked at some of the years on the coins. I saw a few 2009s, which was obvious and I thought it was special that people took the time to find a coin that reflected the date of the tragedy. I found a few 1987s too. I know mine from November was one of them, and I know a special friend who leaves them for JD there too. I can tell you that it made me feel nice to know that others stopped by to reflect on the lives lost on 11/5/09, so I know it would make the other families feel the same.

And I smiled for the picture. Because I don't cry on cue. Yeah, there's a message there.

If anyone might be wondering how I am in so many pictures this time instead of taking them, the other half of the "we" is my precious Gold Star Sibling Rebecca. I came to Killeen to hang wreathes with the Cahills and also to visit my friend. Rebecca was so supportive to come with me to the 11/5/09 memorials. She helped hang ribbons and flowers. It meant a lot to me that she was taking time to honor my brother. We also visited her brother's grave, drank sodas at a great drive-thru establishment and we even made a garden in the middle of her beautiful back yard. We call it the anti-death garden, because we're morbid like that. I brought vegetable seedlings from my own anti-death garden, and we dug and sweat and got blisters on our hands (and random flip flop and pajama tan lines) in the hot Texas heat. It was so nice to hang out with such a beautiful soul and just relax and talk about things without feeling uncomfortable. I've mentioned that I like that. And I've mentioned that I love her a lot before too. :)

We even constructed a fence to keep the rabbits out, as best as 2 chicks can do (but we're really tough chicks). Because she knows about them too. Rabbits like the ones I wrote about. And I'm not talking about rabbits. I never really was.





Holy pictures this is the longest post I've ever done.

And I always save the very most important thing for last. Really this is a very important blog post all on its own. But it contributes to the title of why I'm not bored, as I've been answering questions about this particular topic a lot in the past couple of days and has kept me...not bored.

The reason for the one week early wreath-hanging with the Cahills is because Mr. Cahill is FINALLY being recognized for his heroism on 11/5/09. Tonight he was posthumously awarded the Secretary of the Army Award for Valor for the incredible things he did during the shooting. This is something that was long, long overdue. I am so happy that his family is finally able to accept this on his behalf and feel like he is being properly recognized for the incredible man he is.
Mr. Cahill was the only civilian killed that day, as it appears the shooter was only aiming for people in uniform, according to the testimony at the article 32 hearing. Mr. Cahill was a physician's assistant (not in uniform) that worked at the SRP and was known by all those he took care of as one of the most caring and genuine people to truly listen to his patients, no matter how long it took and never rushed them out the door. There is a great article written below about tonight's ceremony, quoting his daughter Kerry, who also reflects his humility and honor. What an incredible, incredible man and family.

http://hosted.ap.org/dynamic/stories/U/US_FORT_HOOD_SHOOTING_MEDAL?SITE=TXDAM&SECTION=HOME&TEMPLATE=DEFAULT

The reason why I feel like this needs to be a blog post in itself is because I feel like I could do a great deal of explaining on the 2nd half of the article above. But the very reason for being nervous to have ever mentioned it at all, let alone mention it while another hero is being honored has made me decide to touch on it briefly until I can do some more research and soul searching on the topic.

Yes, my brother was awarded a Meritorious Service Medal. I received it a while back on his behalf and could not bring myself to mention it for several reasons. There were so many details of that day that were foggy not only to those in the building with him, but to the family members who need those details for closure. I didn't want to go waving a medal around in front of other family members who may not have been receiving the same answers I was desperately digging for. And because JD was SO not a "I want everyone to know I got a medal" person, I felt it was out of respect for him to not share it with the world for a while also. The reason I decided to do it now was to support the topic of Mr. Cahill's award that should have come to light more easily than it did. There are a lot of inconsistencies that frustrate some grieving families, and I just hope that some of this helps others get any unanswered questions taken care of or at least jump started...yes, a year and a half later.

I'm just gonna go ahead and say this, because I'm already going to get some hatemail for texting while driving. I've been called a conspiracy theorist before. I don't think we've been to the moon, people. If we are searching for water on the moon in 2010, I feel like we should know this already...we've been there right? That's just one of many reasons. So while I'm not excited about speaking out publicly on things I disagree with toward the people who run things, I think even the conspiracy theorists would be blown away at how little information we are really given, and how large of a fraction of the information we are given is complete lies. I've found out so many of them from this little national tragedy, so I can only imagine how much the wool has been pulled over our eyes in many other important issues. There you go - if I die in a random "train accident" tomorrow, please investigate. Although you probably couldn't stop them either. Damn aliens. They have more power than we will ever know.

And that's all I have to say about that.

So there's my week, not my year, in a really, large nutshell - like a nuclear radiation exposed cashew or something. But it absolutely will not give you cancer if you ingest it, I would tell you, if I worked for certain people. Here's your decontamination kit complete with a water based solution that is absolutely not a placebo of salt water and a pair of rubber gloves. Rinse said radiated nutshell or chase with solution if already ingested. If you get cancer or grow another appendage, it's from something else entirely. Also, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain, says the wizard.

It's officially too late (or early...what would 4am be considered?). I'm fitting in too well at this hour with the psychotic rambling consipiracy theroists.

I'm not bored just because I'm not planning memorials or talking about Fort Hood, although I'm not NOT doing that either. This blog post took me exactly 6 hours. So I simply can't write about everything anymore. Although I will, from time to time, of course. If I get bored.