July 4th and Why I'm Dreading It
Disclaimer: I erased and re-wrote so many parts of this blog, because I worried that no one would ever want to spend the Fourth of July with me! haha
Also, there's a couple lines in here that some people could find crude.
Last July 4th I was in a different place than I am now. It was the first Independence Day since Spencer was killed in Afghanistan. I didn't think I was going to have such a hard time that day, but I did. It sucked. I spent most of the day annoyed with people, with mostly everybody to be honest. I ended up trying to avoid all forms of social media, because it was plagued with pictures of people at the lake with their friends, holding some beers, throwing up a peace sign, with captions that said "Happy 4th! Freedom isn't free!" And I would want to hurl.
They have no idea what freedom costs!! They don't have a name, a face, a life to place with the price of freedom. They don't know what it was like to see his picture on the news channels and read the headlines about the crash, but still check their Facebook to see if he messaged them to tell them it was all a mistake (and that message never came). They don't watch a family grieve their son, their brother. They haven't had conversations about the military's protocol for burying bodies that don't have all their parts. They don't pull up to his house and have to remind themselves that he won't be inside. They don't have to pick out flowers for a grave they wish was never there.
I remember thinking those things and feeling the bitterness and hate fester all day. I wanted people to be as miserable as I was, to feel the weight I was feeling that day and had been feeling for almost 11 months at that time. That night, I was defeated and tired...and I prayed. Like, prayed for the first time in a long time since he had died. I didn't know who else to talk to so I took it out on Jesus because He's the one I had the beef with anyway. I remember that it was an angry, raw, honest prayer. Something like, "God, can you believe them?! How can they be having so much fun when I'm hurting so badly? No one understands what this is like unless they know someone who died in a uniform in a sandy foreign country. No one gets the cost of freedom like I get it. How can they be so insensitive?" Then, I swear, it was like everything just stopped, and I felt God whisper something like, "I do, Kenz. I know a name and a life that was sacrificed for your eternal freedom, which is bigger than your freedom as an American, and it's also the very reason you will get to see Spencer some day."
It's like I had been beating God on the chest, like girls do to guys in movies when they're angry. I was beating God on the chest, refusing to let go of this hatred I had been saving up and taking it out on Him because someone needed to feel it. That night I finally surrendered and gave up fighting. I put my fists down and was like, "Oh, yeah." And then I felt like I'm sure other people feel like when God check-mate's them--I felt embarrassed, humbled, relieved. Embarrassed that the Person I had been so angry with was the very reason for the hope that I have that I'll see Spencer again some day. Humbled that He had been so patient with me to get to this point and gently slap me in the face. Relieved that He is constant and present and forgiving, just like He says He is.
I've come a long way in grieving Spencer this second year. Some ways have been a little better, and some a little worse. I thought that after my revelation last July 4th, this July 4th would be a little easier. In some ways I think it is, and in some ways it still sucks. This year, I'm a less hostile towards people who haven't walked in grief the same way I have. I think I will always have a different mindset on July 4th, but I stopped expecting people to get it the way I do. Let's get to the part that explains why I dread July 4th, though. That's why you're reading this after all, isn't it?
Grieving Spencer is still something I do every day... July 4th just magnifies some parts of my heart that I haven't reconciled yet. Those are the parts I dread about this day.
How am I supposed to explain that every time I see an American flag, the only thing I can think of is how it looked draped over his coffin? How his mother's knees buckled when they handed it to her. How it sits folded neatly in the shadow box in his family's home. How I watch his dad straighten the little flags that are on either side of his headstone in Leavenworth. How fireworks make me wonder if that's what it sounded like when their helicopter got hit by the RPG and crashed. How I still fight back tears (and sometimes just let them fall) when I hear the Star-Spangled Banner. How I can feel so much reverence and pride when I see men and women in uniform, but still feel like I got punched in the stomach.
I have plans for this Thursday after I get off work, and I'm excited about them. I'll probably have plans other July 4th's, too. And if I ever have plans with you on July 4th and you've read this blog, please don't feel awkward or think that I hate you if you don't know someone who died in the military and you just want to eat a hot dog and enjoy the fireworks. I hope you enjoy the fireworks and your hot dog, really!! :)
Maybe there are people who have lost a loved one in the line of duty, and the Fourth of July isn't hard for them. Maybe they love the excitement and the people enjoying the freedoms their loved ones died for. Maybe I'll be one of them someday, and this ache will be a lot less crippling. But for now, please don't avoid me on this holiday, just know that it's different for me. And be a little forgiving if I tear up during the fireworks, or stare at the flags a little too long :)
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