It’s Wednesday, July 28th, 2021. It’s 99 freakin’ degrees out and humid as hell. I’m sitting in a black dress in the passenger seat of my friend’s rental van and I feel nauseas. Jared, and my brother Josh and his wife Janée are sitting in the back of the van. We pull up to the chapel and park the van…I am already surprised how many cars are in the parking lot. We sit for a second, and I begin crying. My friend touches me on the shoulder…I can’t remember if she said anything, but she knew that just sitting there for a bit was what I wanted. I collect myself, open the van door, and begin to cry again. The Chaplain waits for a moment before he helps me out. We are at Stevie’s funeral.
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Friday morning, July 23rd, we had to be at the funeral home at 9am for an appointment to discuss arrangements. I remember trying to figure out what to wear. That was the first of several decisions I had to make throughout the next few days, but I was plagued with indecisiveness. Even the simplest decisions were hard.
We arrived at the funeral home and I remember walking in, sitting down, and feeling a wave of nausea come over me. The funeral home was rather old and had a musty smell, but it’s hard not think that it didn’t smell like “death”. That combined with the thought of knowing why we were at the funeral home probably contributed to my nausea. This moment was also the first of several throughout the next two weeks in which even the thought of certain things made me feel sick. I had never experienced that before – physical reactions to mental/emotional thoughts….but I just accepted it, knowing it was my body’s way of dealing with trauma.
Our time at the funeral home involved so many things that I hope none of you reading this ever have to do. Jared and I would not wish this on our own worst enemies. The funeral home gave us some ideas on what to plan for:
Eulogy
Poem
Obituary
Songs, pictures for the service
Guest book
And the urn. Since we are both still active duty Air Force, we knew cremating Stevie would be the best decision, so we can take her with us when we move again in the future. The thought of picking out her urn still makes me cry. It’s an utter shame that there’s urns for babies. They’re all so small – they can fit in the palms of your hands. I remember holding the one we chose for her and both of us breaking down in the middle of the funeral home. It was so gosh-dang tiny. BUT it was also so perfect, perfect for her.
When we returned home, Jared’s brothers, Denny & Jordan, were waiting for us in the driveway. They had driven through the night from Ohio to come see us. What a welcome site to see them and hugs to share with them. This was one of a few moments we thought we would cry seeing family members, but we had no tears to shed – I think because our bodies just needed the occasional break from crying. We were concerned our friends and family might think we were psychopaths during these moments, since we weren’t crying, but these events were just another item on the list of weird things that happen after experiencing a traumatic event. Anyway, having Denny and Jordan in town is another moment Jared and I will cherish forever. I think they knew coming in, without us telling them, that their time with us would involve a lot of sitting, listening, and just being present. We will forever be thankful for their assistance from Friday to Sunday.
Throughout the weekend, we worked through each moment of planning Stevie’s service in small pieces, taking frequent breaks because everything was pretty difficult to get through without crying or stalling. We realized how thankful we were for how many photos and videos I took of Stevie, haha. We ended up printing every single one of her photos because we couldn’t choose right away which ones we would want on display at her service. Denny & Jordan went to Walgreens to pick up the prints and buy some more picture frames for us. We also chose several songs to play at Stevie’s service, including “Lean on Me” by Bill Withers that I mentioned in the first blog. Jared wrote the obituary, which was also printed in the programs for the service. My Aunt Celeste graciously agreed to read a poem at Stevie’s service as well.
At some point throughout the weekend, we made the decision that we wanted to write letters to Stevie and read them at the service. I remember at first thinking “oh God…is this a good idea? Will I have the courage to actually read a letter out loud at her service?” But then, almost within the same thought, a feeling of incredible conviction came over me to do the letter. I remember thinking and feeling it might be my last chance to tell her I didn’t know what happened, but we were trying to figure it out, tell her how much I loved her, and tell her about all the hopes and dreams and plans I had for her. So I had to do it.
Finally, we gave our squadron Chaplain a call (he is the Chaplain for both of our squadrons) and he agreed to preside over Stevie’s service. I cannot say enough great things about our Chaplain. He came to the house on Sunday to sit with us and discuss what we wanted, but he also wanted to get to know us and Stevie. What a complete rock star, I mean, right?? He was so dedicated to making Stevie’s service the best, right from the beginning. He and his team helped take the burden of preparing and rehearsing off our plate, and they did an absolute incredible job.
Despite having to make several difficult decisions throughout the weekend, we somehow made it through it all. Having Denny & Jordan around was really awesome. They helped break up the monotony with comedic relief and sharing funny stories from growing up and being in Ohio. We also had my DO (Director of Operations) and his wife over for dinner on Friday. They had already planned on bringing us a meal for our meal train, but we asked if they’d join us. It was also wonderful having them over to be social and take a break from crying. My DO is probably one of my favorite co-workers I have ever had in my career. He is also one of my mentors, and now I would like to call him one of my friends. When we had him and his wife over, he helped ease some of my fears of going back to work (which I will discuss in a later blog). He also helped pass along my desires to my commander and first sergeant to inform my squadron about Stevie’s passing, and to invite them to her service (insert another wave of nausea here – the thought of knowing my squadron of 400 people would soon be made aware that our daughter passed away really made me feel sick). Jared and I didn’t want to limit the Omaha service in any way, so we left the attendance open.
On Sunday night, Denny & Jordan went home, however, my brother Josh and his wife Janée would be arriving into town on Tuesday, July 27th, along with one of my best friends in the Air Force. They all wanted to come out to be with us and be present for Stevie’s service. Break break -- I have to write a bit about this best friend of mine. She is the one who had just given birth to fraternal twins in January that I wrote about in my second blog. So, she was (and still is) nursing at the time, and she still dropped everything to fly out and support Jared and me. Being a mama and trying to figure out logistics of flying with your milk is a massive undertaking in itself, but she is one of the most organized people I know and she completed this “task” with poise and grace. Anyway, her twins spent quite a bit of time in the NICU after they were born, and at that time she had many fears/concerns for her own babies’ lives. I know that she resonated with many of the feelings Jared and I were having, so it was especially helpful having her in town for Stevie’s service. Side note, her twins are ridiculously adorable and healthy!
On the day of the service, we arrived at the chapel and were seated in a separate waiting area beforehand with my family – aunt, uncle, cousins, my brother & his wife, and my friend. My commander came back to pass his condolences. Quick sidebar here; while I was on maternity leave, my squadron had a change of command – as in, our old commander moved to a new duty station and another commander took over. My daughter’s funeral service was the first time I would be meeting my new commander. I told him I wished it wasn’t under these circumstances, but he understood.
Anyway, the service went really, really well…if a service can “go well”. Everything was perfect. My aunt did a wonderful job reading the poem, the songs fit perfectly into each moment, and our Chaplain did an exceptional job talking about Stevie and what her “mission” was here on earth. While Jared and I think we are still waiting to find out what that mission may have been, we can definitely say that if it had to do with truly understanding how much one person can love another human being, then mission accomplished.
At the end of the service, we decided that if anyone wanted to come up to greet us and pass their condolences, they could. It was at this time that I turned to look back at the audience for the first time, and was shocked by how many people attended….probably around 80 if I had to guess. They didn’t even get to meet Stevie, and yet, here they were to support us. I have said it once and I will say it again – people in the military are truly awesome. It is pretty common for a “receiving line” to take place at the end of many military gatherings – promotions, changes of command, retirements, etc – where the audience goes up and shakes hands. So we cannot say that we were surprised that the entire audience came up to hug us. I don’t think I’ve ever hugged so many people in my life. But it was really comforting, and we did not mind one bit.
When we got back to the house that afternoon, Janée made an amazing meal for dinner. My friend would fly back to her duty station on Thursday morning. We spent Thursday and Friday with Josh & Janée watching CrossFit Games and Olympics coverage, while preparing to head to Ohio on Saturday. We were planning to do another service for Stevie in Ohio so our parents and extended families could attend.
One Positive Thing:
The day Stevie passed away, I remember saying “how do people get through something like this?” Experiencing trauma such as this is not one of those bounce-back, resiliency moments. I had no idea how we would navigate something like this. But now, sometimes I stop and think about how we are managing. I think “I’m not sure how we are getting through this….but we are”. We are somehow surviving, one step at a time. And that gives me hope.
Also, on Thursday in our support group (and then again on Friday, October 15th) we lit a candle for Stevie as part of the International Wave of Light. You can see her candle, urn, pictures, and 3D prints of her hand and foot (we got them from the hospital shortly after her death) below.
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