Noncombat - American Widow Project

Vietnam War Widow, Tiger My Journey

Hello! to all my Sisters. I am a Vietnam Veteran, War Widow. My husband, Edward T.-Tommy-Evans-(ET) died from Glioblastoma-Brain Cancer, 3/31/2003. He was only 52. The Love of my Life! I made a promise to him when he laid dying at hospice in Jacksonville,Florida that I would continue the fight, to make it right! After 8 years, going through a roller coaster ride, and storms, I fought and won my case in 2011. I researched, countless hours, and would like to share with all here my journey with the following links

www.salem-news.com/articles/february182011/edward-evans-tk.php
www.prweb.com/releases/2011/02/prweb5080394.htm

FB pages-
Sisters of Mercy, Nam Vets with Glio
Show Me March Against Monsanto, Ozark, MO
Operation Red Dragonfly

FB Groups-
Vietnam Veterans with Glioblastoma

After suffering strokes, seizures, small vessel Brain Disease, ongoing memory loss with confusion, I am 100% disabled. But, God isn’t through with me yet. I have done a couple of March Against Monsanto, Ozark, MO, and I volunteer my time to help encourage all to fight to make it right! I wrote my first book, “By the Grace of God A Promise Kept”, in 2015, and on my way to working on my sequel. So many in our group are doing all we can in bringing awareness and shedding light on this much needed cause! I will not stop until I see Brain Tumors get added to agent orange presumptive list and service connection. Vietnam Veterans, fell free to connect with me anytime, I am here 24/7. Hope to make many friends, my Sisters of the Heart! Take Care- Peace & Good Will! Activist & Advocate-

I’ll Never Forget The Details Of That First Day

The weeks leading up to the day of my husband’s death were pure insanity. Just two weeks before he died, I was busy packing up our home and preparing to move in with his parents for 4 months while Tony was studying for the Mississippi bar exam. He had recently graduated from law school and had accepted a federal clerkship in Gulfport, MS. He had also commissioned as an officer within his unit and before he could begin his new clerkship, he needed to complete his 16-week leadership training at Ft. Gordon in Georgia. So during this transitional time I was preparing to live with Tony’s parents until he returned from Ft. Gordon and we could start house hunting. We moved everything into storage and my in-law’s house. Tony took the bar exam and the next day left for Ft. Gordon. It was going to be 4 months apart, but nothing we couldn’t handle. This all took place at the beginning of August, so as a teacher I was busy preparing for the new school year. We were both insanely busy, but managed to send text messages in the morning, and talk every evening. Tony had only been at Ft. Gordon for a week before he died.

I’ll never forget the details of that first day.

It was a Friday evening and I had sent Tony a text message earlier that morning and never heard back from him. That wasn’t unusual considering how crazy both of our schedules were at the time. Tony’s parents had left to babysit their 3 granddaughters while I stayed behind and rested for a bit. It was about 6:30pm when I realized I still hadn’t heard from Tony. Within the next 30 minutes I received a phone call from an unknown Georgia number. Before I even picked up the phone that unknown Georgia number had me worried, but I told myself it was probably just Tony using a friend’s phone. Upon answering, I heard an unknown voice; an officer from Ft. Gordon was calling to tell me that my husband had participated in a land navigation exercise earlier that afternoon and had still not returned. They were searching the woods for him, but he needed my permission to track his cell phone in order to help locate him. He said he would call with an update as soon as he had one. I gave my consent and tried not to panic. It didn’t work of course. I called my mother in law in tears and told her about the phone call I had just received. Within the next few hours all of the immediate family had been informed and we all gathered at my brother in law’s house and waited. We waited for hours and hours. It felt like an eternity. At about 5am the next day, I had waited long enough. I redialed the number of the officer that had called me the night before. When he answered it was obvious I had disturbed his sleep, but I could have cared less. I asked him for an update, and he told me that he was not allowed to disclose any information at this time. I knew what that meant. My thoughts went wild. The military never discloses bad news over the phone; it is always in person. If he were alive, we’d have heard something by now…Tony would have made someone call me! I tried to keep my cool and didn’t share any of my wild thoughts with his family. But like many military spouses, Tony and I had talked about this. I knew the Army protocol and knew what was going to happen next. Within the next few hours I received a phone call from a different officer asking me for my current address. We had just moved the week before so there was a little confusion about my location. Again, at this point, no one would tell me anything. Amidst my endless badgering, one officer did slip up and said something along the lines of “Ma’am we just need your current address so we can discuss your husband’s accident with you.” Accident? Accident was news to me. His family and I had been led to believe that Tony was still lost in the woods somewhere. His parents and I waited in terror. We knew that the next knock on the door would be two officers in full uniform, but none of us were prepared to say it or admit it. Every fiber of my being was begging to God or the universe, “please let this be a mistake…please let them have found the wrong person…this isn’t real, this isn’t happening.” We heard a car pull up. We heard the slam of two doors. My father in law opened the front door before they could knock, and on the porch stood two officers. At this point, things started to get a little blurry for me. Its not that my memory is hazy or that I’ve blocked it out. I vividly remember the room spinning, my heart pounding, and my hands shaking. The officers asked us to sit down and like many other families of fallen soldiers know, they informed us that on August 8, 2014, 2nd LT Anthony Thomas Scardino had died. The officer continued to talk, but I couldn’t hear him. My in-laws pulled me closer as we all cried and stated things like, “No, not him. He’s too young to die. He just took the bar exam. He survived two tours in Afghanistan.” So many emotions were hitting me at once; I thought I was going to puke. In a panic, I ran outside and took a couple of deep breaths. I don’t remember what I said or did next, but I know at some point I started to call my close family and friends.

The next week was a complete blur. Family and friends coming into town; food and flowers everywhere; an endless stream of text messages, Facebook messages and phone calls from people I barely knew or hadn’t seen or talked to in years; my Causality Assistance Officer; funeral arrangements; my best friend sleeping on an air mattress next to me even though she had a hotel room; the endless mounds of paperwork.

Throughout all the craziness and gaps in my memory, there are a few things I do remember. I remember being on the tarmac and watching the honor guard carry his casket from the plane to the hearse. Seeing his casket was the first time it really hit me. My husband had come home, just not in the way any of us expected. The Adjunct General of the Mississippi National Guard had his arms around me. He was holding me so tightly that his grip left marks on my arms. If he hadn’t of held me the way he did, I probably would have passed out.

I remember the first time I saw his body. I was alone in a room with an officer from Tony’s unit, my Casualty Assistance Officer, and Tony. I entered the room, saw the open casket and burst into tears. I remember backing away, shaking my head and saying, “no, no, no…it can’t be him.” He was in full dress uniform, just like on our wedding day. But he didn’t look like himself. His lifeless body scared the crap out of me and I couldn’t be alone with him for very long. At that point, his parents, his brother and sister and my aunt entered. We spent a few minutes soaking all of it in.

I remember bits and pieces of the funeral. I remember feeling so alone amidst all of the people that had come to honor his life and give their condolences. I remember the beautiful eulogy that his brother had written. I remember all of the stares and the sorrowful looks of pity. I remember members of his battalion taking up half of seating in the church. I remember the grief and tears that washed over their faces. I also remember the pride. Most of those men knew Tony longer than I did. They had served with him and deployed with him. They were proud to call him a brother and weren’t afraid to share their grief with me.

I remember the patriot guard. Their presence made me feel such a strong sense of pride and support. I remember cars pulling over, and men and women stopping and standing in the Mississippi heat all to honor a man they’d never met.

I don’t remember much from the burial service itself. I remember the honor guard carefully folding the flag that draped his casket. They truly honored Tony and his service to his country. I remember someone handing me the flag. The rest comes back to me in bits and pieces.

It has been nearly 7 months since my husband died. These have been some of the most challenging times of my life. I was lucky enough to marry the man of my dreams. We made plans and we had an amazing life ahead of us. In an instant, that life we had created was gone. Time was suddenly split in two – before Tony died and after Tony died. So here I am, a 26-year-old widow trying to figure out where my life goes next. The pain of losing my husband is always with me. The memories we created together sneak up on me at the strangest times and I find myself bursting into tears. Sometimes it’s the small things like making coffee in the morning or the lyrics of a song. Other times it’s finding one of his old t-shirts while doing laundry or waking up and reaching for his side of the bed.

Tony used to always joke about how he married this independent Texas woman and if he keeled over tomorrow, he knew I would be ok. I hated when he said that, it made me seem like I didn’t love him enough to get attached. It was actually quite the opposite. Anyone who knows me knows that I tend to keep the people around me at a distance, but not Tony. He was one of the good ones and I knew it the moment I met him. Falling in love with him was the easiest thing I’d ever done. He was truly my better half and when he died a part of me died with him.

Some days are harder than others. I have ups and downs and constantly struggle with my new normal. In my worst moments, I try to remind myself of how Tony viewed me – as the strong independent woman who could handle anything life threw her way. When I feel like giving up or throwing in the towel, I strive to be that woman again. I try to continue to live my life to the fullest because I know without a doubt, that’s what he would want.

Katy Scardino, Proud Military Widow of 2nd Lt. Anthony Scardino

The Day It Ended

It all started on a Friday morning. October 17, 2008. Everything started out normal, the way that it was supposed to. He left for work around 0500, came in and gave me a kiss like he always did before he left. About half an hour later, he text me after getting onto base and getting his monster to let me know the gas price on base, it was the typical thing as this was when gas prices were ridiculous. I woke up, looked at it and went back to bed.
Around 0700, the knocking started. I woke up and looked at the clock, knew I wasn’t expecting anybody and told myself forget it. I had to get up in about 3 hours to start getting ready for work and I wasn’t getting out of bed before that because I still didn’t feel well. But whoever was at the door continued knocking. After about 15 minutes or so, I finally got up because they weren’t going away. I looked out the peep hole and saw three guys all in ACUs standing outside of my door. The First Sergeant and Lieutenant of the unit were the two that I recognized. I opened the door, confused as to what was going on. That’s when they told me that Clint had been involved in an accident and was at Madigan in surgery. That’s all they told me. So I figured ok, he was on his way to work and got into an accident. I called my mom quick to let her know I was on my way to the hospital because there was an accident and I’d let her know more when I did. I threw on a coat and left with them, still in pajamas.

It wasn’t until we were on our way to Ft. Lewis, during morning rush, that they told me it wasn’t a vehicle accident. They told me that Clint had been directing traffic by their motor pool to get the trucks across to the range they were going to for the day. This is around about 0630. Another soldier, on his way to PT, didn’t see him standing in the road and hit him. Clint flew up into the air and then about 35 feet forward. The driver of their truck had noticed the oncoming truck wasn’t stopping and was trying to yell to Clint; Clint had turned to look at him and step out of the way when he was struck. One of the guys from his unit jumped out of the truck and started to perform CPR on him as his heart had stopped and he wasn’t breathing. When the ambulance got there, they had to perform CPR 2 more times during the short drive from the accident scene and the hospital.

Just as we got to the hospital, around 0830, Clint had just gotten out of surgery. They had me wait for what seemed like forever before anybody came to talk to me. When they finally did, all they would say was that he had internal bleeding which they were trying to stop and they needed to take him to get a CT of his brain to see if there was any damage, but they wouldn’t be able to do that until he was stabilized. I think it was close to an hour before they let me go in to see him for the first time. And the head nurse had to come out to prepare me for it first. Worst part of all, I was only able to stay in the room for maybe a minute before they were pulling me out of the entire ICU area. There were updates here and there, basically just to tell me that they were taking him back to surgery or bringing him back. At one point, things seemed somewhat brighter, like they were under control. I was able to go back and see him for another few minutes and then whisked out again. At one point, somebody called some of our friends up to be with me. Around 1300, I was allowed to go back by him once again. Things were more low-key, but they still wouldn’t let me in by him for more than a few minutes. I remember them pulling me out again and into the hallway before you walk into the ICU and I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I hated seeing him the way that he was, I hated that they wouldn’t let me by him for more than a few minutes, I hated it all. People were trying to get me off of the floor and into a waiting room when they came back out to tell me that I needed to go back in by him, things changed that fast. There was nothing else that they could do for him. In less than 5 minutes there was what seemed like 20 people around him and they had taken him off of all machines and they were doing his breathing for him. Everybody started to clear out once I walked in and that was it, they all just left him. That was the longest amount of time I was allowed to spend with him that day. Twenty minutes I was in with him, holding him while he tried to take his last breath.

Never did I imagine that I would hold my husband as he took his last breath at 21 years old. I’m thankful I was given the 15 months with him that I had, but it wasn’t long enough. I never realized how important the people who were my friends, my Army friends, would really be in my life. They weren’t my friends, they were, and still almost 6 years later are my family. They were the ones who held me up, literally, and the ones who stuck there with me all along.

My Love

Michael Angelo Longobardo was my soulmate…he loved to say he knew from the first time we spoke on the phone that I was the one. It took me a little longer to realize it tho. Mike was already out of the military when I met him but being in the Air Force left it’s mark on him. I’ve been told he was never the same after his discharge.

We meet online on September 13th 2010. My girlfriends and I decided to create a list of requirements for my new boyfriend. At the time I was dating a lot of jerks and had started to give up on love. Anyway I signed up to a online dating website and posted a picture or two and the list of requirements and left it like that, 3 days later I got an email from this cutie guy who didn’t live to far from me saying “I meet 90% of your requirements would you like to know which ones” I answered him back…3 or 4 emails later and I gave him my number we spoke for hours that night and he said he knew I was the one after he told me it was 4am and he knew I had to go to work and I responded with “I know I just wanna talk to you more” he told his mother that he was sold I’m the one. We spoke everyday for 10 days before we finally met in person. Our first meeting was magical and his mother happened to call that night and I got to speak to her as well. Mike asked me to be his girlfriend on September 23rd 2010 before he ever kissed me. I said yes and when he came to pick me up that night I attacked him and kissed him!! We dated for only 4 months before he asked me to marry him and we were married January 11th 2011. Mike always said to everyone and anyone that our love was special, we’re soulmates and most people don’t understand that.

So I’m a widow now. I’m 30…I was 29 the day Mike died, he was also 29…we were coming up on our 3 year wedding anniversary in January. This road has been so difficult on me. Mike was a disabled veteran who suffered with OCD and when we got married I became a housewife and took care of him everyday. We have no children but 2014 was going to be the year we start trying. Mike died December 9th 2013…I found him dead in living room. He was without the necessary drugs he needed to function on a daily bases. We had a screaming match with his doctor that Thursday and was told he’d have the pills out to my husband the next day…the pills didn’t show up until he was already found dead and his body was removed from my house.

He wanted to be cremated and put in the vault in the Saratoga national Cemetery. Now my world has turned upside down and I miss him terribly.

The Day He Died

On February 25, 2014 I was involuntarily put in the Gold Star Club. This is his story.

Life. Our new normal. It is excruciating, lonely, difficult; yet calming, maybe even peaceful at times.

I hate it.

But it is what it is. I can’t change it.

The roller coaster of emotions is cruel. Daunting. Sneaks up on me when I least expect. The smallest things set me off. Smells, sights, sounds… Things a ‘normal’ person wouldn’t consider painful.
It’s like getting my heart twisted and broken, over and over and over; I can’t control it.

When he passed away, the night was a blur. Still is in fact. I want to remember, but I don’t.

I ran to the gas station for him. I was gone, at most, ten minutes. I will never forgive myself for leaving.

I came home, hollered his name. No response. I looked down our hallway, to see him slumped over and passed out. Same ol’ song and dance we’ve been through for the last year. I knew the routine.

Get him on his back.
Get the oxygen on him.
Call paramedics.

But somehow, this was different. His chest wasn’t rising and falling.

He had a pulse. But it was faint. I began CPR, I was slamming on his chest, I thought I’d break his ribs. I was screaming at the dispatcher to get the damn paramedics here now. She kept counting.

One and two and three and four.

Pinch and blow.

One and two and three and four.

It seemed like hours, days before they arrived. It was merely 6 minutes.

I was screaming. I think. One of the paramedics, the one that I’ve seen every time, picked me up. I felt like a rag doll. I remember being limp, I couldn’t feel my legs. I knew Graham was gone. I felt him leave me. But I kept screaming, save him. I begged. He moved me to the living room, out of the way. They worked so hard on him. I kept repeating, he promised not to leave me. He said he’d never leave me. I don’t know at what point, my kids were taken by my friend, and my other friend was holding me, praying. I told her to stop. God was the last person I wanted to talk too.

She drove me to the hospital. I called my mother. She still wont tell me what I said to her. I can’t remember.

We arrived at the hospital in minutes. I literally live right down the same street. I was taken back to ‘that room’ the one they take people when something bad has happened. That room. I knew. I just knew. But I still had faint hope. They came in to get more information on him. And then they asked if there was anyone they could call for me. I knew.

White coats came and went. I sat. Seemed like days. It was 15 minutes. She came in, sat across from me. The look, she had the look. The sorrow, the one people give you when there are no words.

I asked to see him. She said they were still working on him. I needed to see him. They took me in. They had soldier after soldier pumping his chest. I remember my knees giving out. I had a chair. I sat. I watched. But I knew. He left me a long time ago. He was tired. He didn’t want to do this anymore.

They stopped. Said it was over. I had to get out. I couldn’t breathe. The doors wouldn’t open fast enough. I remember my legs didn’t want to work. I couldn’t walk. I remember my friend telling the doctors to leave me alone. I remember how cold the floor was. But the world stopped spinning while I was down there. I couldn’t hear anyone. It was silent.

They moved me back to ‘that room’. So I wouldn’t be a spectacle or something I don’t know. I didn’t care. I remember sending out a text or two. It simply said

Graham’s dead. He died.

I requested to see him. I needed to see him myself. Alone. They walked me back in and I sat and held his hand. I told him I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t mad he broke his promise to always be with me. I was at peace that he wasn’t hurting anymore. I told him I loved him.

And I just sat and held his hand.

I don’t remember much after that. Lots of people coming and going. I was brought home. I was taken to the neighbors house, because CID (the army’s criminal investigation department) was at my home. It was a crime scene.

A crime scene.

I had to tell the boys. I had to tell our boys. That I can remember. I remember the tears. The sobbing. I can remember every detail of that part. And it was one part I want to forget.

The days following are still blurry. I get bits of memory coming back, little by little. But I don’t remember a lot. Still more people. Coming for signatures. Plans had to be made. Things were moving so fast. I just wanted to sleep. Forever.

Sleep was a bitch. When the day was finally over. Things would replay in my head all over again. Why did I leave? If I’d stayed he’d still be alive. This wouldn’t be happening. Then I’d wake up. For a split second I’d have bliss. Then I’d remember. And it would suck all over again.

The days were hard, the nights were harder. I was angry. I was tired. I was confused. But oh, so angry.

I had so many questions. No one could answer anything. Lots of hate. Oh, I had so much hatred.

I still do.

We flew out to Atlanta Wednesday March 5. His escorts, the boys and I all few with Graham. When we landed, the pilot announced over the plane that we had a fallen service member on board, and if everyone would remain seated until his family and escorts left the plane first. It was the hardest, longest, walk of my life. People stared. People just looked at me, like they were lost for words but glad is wasn’t them getting off first.

We were escorted to the tarmac. They brought him off the plane first. We stood silent. Watched. It was agonizing. I wanted to hide from the looks. Everyone was looking. We followed him to the cargo area, where the Honor Guards were waiting for him. It was beautiful. They carried him so gently. So respectfully. Everything he deserved and more. I was proud to be his. His wife, his best friend, his soul mate. Just his.

The viewing was set for Friday, March 7. I wanted to see him before then. I needed time to process his body before seeing the thralls of people that would come to pay their last respects and the endless hugs and I’m sorry’s. I needed to have time to process it. So, they took me into the parlor. He was there, the gorgeous flag draped over him. It was quiet. So quiet. They pulled the flag back and opened ‘the box’. I realized I was walking backwards after bumping into one of the many chairs in the room. I was also holding my breath. I sat. I just sat and gathered my thoughts. That ‘box’ is holding my husband. It’s his final resting spot.

He didn’t look real. He looked like a doll. A plastic doll. He was in his dress blues, white gloves, and of course, his favorite pair of sunglasses – aviators. I slowly walked towards him. Making myself keep moving forward, taking slow breaths. Just keep moving forward I kept telling myself. This is the worst part. I held his hand, again. I spoke to him. I just took it all in. I knew I would be okay. He’s always with me.

The viewing itself was beautiful. People came and went and were respectful. I held it together Until we prayed over him. Until my brother and I prayed over him.

The funeral was amazing. I know, funeral and amazing shouldn’t really every be placed in the same sentence. But if you were there, you know. Amazing. Patriot guard, Jeepers, it was,
amazing.

It was also the second hardest day of my life.

They handed me the flag, oh so neatly folded in the triangle. They handed it me and it just felt like it was over. Everything was over. He really wasn’t going to come bounding back through the door. No more text messages saying, I love you more. No more phone calls.
Over.

It’s over. My old life, I have an old life now. I’m a widow, at 28 years old. A widow. I have a new life, a new normal.

I was told, I’ll never be the old me. I’ll never get over this. I’ll learn to live with it, learn to deal with it but it never truly goes away. That I have to find the new normal.

New normal.

So, here it is, a few days before our 7th wedding anniversary. And I’m still lost. Still trying to find my path.

But I do see a light. Somewhere at the end of this dark nightmare. One day, I’ll make it through 24 hours without crying. One day. Just not now. I’m okay with that, I’m okay with knowing it will hurt. Because I loved that man with everything I have and more.

And sometimes, love hurts.

Until the Minute…

I never thought in January of 2013 I would be where I am today. Its hard to know where to begin, but I guess how we met is a good place!

In January of 2013, after a 2 year long abusive relationship, I finally left my ex and wanted to surround myself with new friends so I jumped online and started to look for people around to be just friends with. I soon came across Rob’s profile. He had just learned he would so be stationed at Fort Bliss, Texas. I thought he seemed pretty interesting and would have good stories to tell since he was coming from Korea. So I decided to message him and see what he was all about.

On February 1, he finally arrived to texas. We gave him a few days to get settled into his new barracks and unit before meeting. We finally got to meet in person on Feb 6. It was honestly one of the most awkward days of my life! But as awkward as it was we kept talking and ending up hanging out for at least 12 hours! Before I even left him that day, I knew i wanted to spend my life with him. Within a the next couple of days we talked about being more than just friends and decided we both really did want to be a couple. So it became “Facebook official” on February 8. Since I lived an hour away, we only saw each other on the weekends when he didn’t have CQ or any other type of extra duty. The weekend of Valentine’s day came and he completely surprised me by coming down to see me and spend the weekend at my place, when I thought he wouldn’t be able to! Although is was EXTREMELY quick things got very serious, very fast. We ended up getting pregnant that weekend. It was a shock to both of us. And although we both loved each other very much, getting pregnant was the last thing either of us wanted, so I gave him the option of sticking with me and raising out baby together or walking away before either of us fell even more in love with the other. He didn’t even have to think twice and stuck by my side. So for the next few months, we had a semi-long distance relationship while I continued to go to school and he lived on Fort Bliss. On May 16, we got married. It was one of the happiest days of my life!

Two weeks later and after I got to a point in my classes where I could transfer to a different campus, On May 31, I moved from New Mexico to Texas. Rob and I soon got into a new routine. He would get up at 0530 go out to PT, come home at 0700 and eat breakfast that I would normally have made and ready for him. He then would shower and get ready for the day while I made him lunch (if he was taking lunch that day). Then around 0830 he would leave the house for work. I cleaned, unpacked boxes, and cooked dinner until he got home at 1715. After eating and watching a few hours of TV, we would be in bed by 2200, ready to do it all over again the next day. On June 11, we went for an ultrasound and found out we would be having a girl. We were both really excited to have a princess before a prince!

We spent the months following just living life as a newly married couple and getting ready for our little girl. Rob was so excited to finally be a daddy, as much as a shock it was! We were both really scared but knew we could do it, especially if we stuck together and didn’t just give up like so many young couples today do.

Then came September 14, 2013. A day I will never forget. Unlike most military widows, I saw my husband until the minute he died. We decided to go out to a lake with three of his army buddies.

They all went into the water while I sat on the shore in the sun. They thought swimming to the other side of the lake would be fun (it was only about 200 yards where we were at). They don’t even get half way when I hear Rob say he was getting a little tired so he wanted to turn around and come back to sit with me. So him and a friend turned around and started swimming back towards me. Unfortunately, he would never make it back. He started panicking when he was about 100 feet from shore. I started yelling at him to float on his back till help could get to him. I’m guessing he either couldn’t hear me or was distraught because he kept swimming, but at this point he was swimming parallel to me and shore. His friend finally caught up to him and got him swimming the correct way, but by then it was too late. He was already started to go under the water and resurfacing. That went on for probably 10 minutes, all while he was screaming for help and I was trying to get him to turn and float. His friend (Zach) had to eventually push himself away from Rob since he kept pushing Zach under to try and keep himself afloat. I then find myself in chest deep water trying to get Rob, and hear Zach yelling at me to get back to shore and that he would get Rob back for me. I took my eyes of Rob for a split second, by the time i looked back up and Zach turned around, Rob was gone. We couldn’t see him at all under water and he wasn’t resurfacing this time. I was then forcefully pulled from the water and all I could do was scream and cry at people to do what ever it took to get my husband, the father of my daughter, my world, my heart, my everything back to me and call 911. Somebody had already called because the next thing I knew, I saw 3 park rangers rushing into the water and had the head ranger covering me in dry blankets. Soon I was brought into an ambulance to check on me and our unborn daughter. I was in the ambulance for a total of 3 hours, while they tried finding Rob, eventually calling off the search for the night. Once I refused transport and signed refusal forms, I moved from the EMT’s to our personal vehicle. At this point I knew he was gone and wouldn’t be coming back.

So after hours of waiting, at about 0115, the Army Search and rescue team arrive and started the recovery search for his body. I refused to leave until they found my husband, I guess it was because I felt as if i was leaving him behind, even though I knew he was gone. At 0200, they finally found his body at the bottom of the lake.

After the divers formally informed me they recovered his body, I went into preterm labor at only 32 weeks pregnant and was rushed to the hospital. Luckily, they were able to stop my labor.

September 14, 2013 will always be a day I remember for the rest of my life. I only had my husband for less then 9 months but they were honestly the most important and profound months of my life. I wouldn’t change a thing that happened in those few short months except his passing. Being a Gold Star Wife is a club I never wanted to be in but I’m thankful that it exists.

By the minutes

My name is Tiffany Sweeney. My beloved Marine, husband, father, son and
friend Joseph Patrick Sweeney left his time on earth to be with GOD on
12/17/2013 by HIS choosing he was 37.

11.25.1976-12.17.2013 RIP my love always to HONOR your SACRIFICE for
America, Freedom, Life, Liberty, and Justice. You will NEVER EVER BE
FORGOTTEN.

He survives 5 children 18 Katelyn,16 Anthony,8 Jacob,6 Bella,4 Joseph
Jr.

Joey entered the Marine Corp at the tender age of 17. He followed in
the footsteps of his father Paul Francis Sweeney a beloved Marine as
well, it was in his blood to follow family tradition of soldiers. Joey
fought in Bosnia and Afghanistan as an EOD grunt he would call himself,
Sgt Sweeney the front guy on the line making sure his men were safe to
return home.

Through the time he served until he left the Corp on his journey in
life there were many struggles and many joys. To long to list in the
story but none the less he lived a life of very high highs and very low
lows. I will never understand fully why he chose death over life but
maybe that is not meant for me to know or understand it is between him
and GOD.

Since his passing life stands still. Only for a moment with my children
do I have to come back to reality and out of the haze to hug them, love
them, talk about him and act as though life is supposed to move on.
Agony, guilt, extreme depression and sadness plague us. My children
moan and yearn for his voice and touch as do I. I read these stories of
our loved ones fallen and my heart aches and yearns to try and find
answers and help for other soldiers with severe PTSD, being alive in
love and life but broken, lonely and desperate inside with no where to
turn because that’s not what they do.What happens after war in the real
world.

They don’t talk about the pain from war, they never speak the unspoken.
We pick up those pieces in everyday life with them not knowing where
the anger or eery quietness out of the blue comes from whether it is
work, family life and the juggling of day to events and situations.
Never knowing what is underneath all of it because they hide it so well.

It will be a month since he passed on 1/14/14 2 days from now. I search
everyday for something not knowing what it is I am searching for as my
mind is scattered and lost. I can’t concentrate on anything, I can’t
sleep with the images of finding him in our bedroom, this must be an
accident only to come back to reality that he is gone forever and the
reality of it all.

Who is the woman starring back at me, the longing the yearning the
anything……..I chose life for my children and family but I operate
with only one side of me and a broken heart as we all try together to
survive by the minutes of the day not knowing what is around the corner
and not really caring.

My friend found this website and it has become a place of reading
refuge, heartfelt stories, and a little ray of light in a dark dark
world I hope one day I can come out of. Thank you all for sharing your
fight, your pain and your stories to help a new person like me
searching for answers, respite, and other survivors that somehow find a
way to see life as beautiful again amidst the hole in our hearts that
will be there forever.

For in this moment I take a step back, say a prayer to Joey and ask
that he continue to guide me in the fight for him and all of our lost
loved ones to help each other find a place of healing, peace and life
again. RIP my beloved. My best friend, my soulmate, my everything.

Tiffany Anne Sweeney

Invincible

Tyler and I got to know each other sitting in the stands at Navy boot camp in 2002, while the performers practiced. We were non-performers in a performing division. We were supposed to be studying for our classes but usually just ended up talking. He was the most accomplished and driven person I had ever met. I had just left my small town in Montana, and just doing that had seemed like a big deal at the time. He told me he was going to BUD/S to be a SEAL, after explaining how he came to be at Navy boot camp. I was enamored, although so was every other girl in our division. There were plenty of conversations discussing him in the female floor of the “ship”, which he was very pleased to hear later when we were dating, of course.

Tyler had gone to Marine Corps boot camp and was in the Marine Corps Reserves while attending college at the University of New Hampshire. He graduated college and completed Marine Corps Officer Candidate School. What changed his plan was meeting a guy training for BUD/S. After talking to him, Tyler tried to switch his commission to the Navy, but the Marine Corps said he had to serve at least four years as a an Infantry Officer first. He was so set on going to BUD/S that he deferred his commission. After talking with his new friend and the Navy recruiters he decided to go in enlisted to avoid the managerial and office duties that officers were said to have that were not part of the “operating” he wanted to do. Why a Veteran who had attending both Marine Corps boot camp and Officer Candidate School was required to attend Navy boot camp, I don’t know. I just thought it must have been so we could meet. Tyler graduated boot camp as the Honor Graduate easily. No surprised there.

It turned out that Tyler and I were both slotted to attend Parachute Rigger A school in Pensacola, Florida after boot camp. During our free weekend after graduation we spent some time together with our families and other friends from boot camp. When getting on the bus at the end of the weekend he said “you should let me take you out sometime when we get to Pensacola”. I was convinced he was a “player” and now with my newfound freedom was not looking to date anyone. I laughed and said, “We’ll see”. Little did I know, he was not a “player” or used to the amount of attention he received while at boot camp! Years later, we both laughed at our perceived ideas of each other. He had told his family in a letter that I was “hot, but kind of a hick” from Montana. On the bus on our way to NAS Pensacola from the airport we sat next to each other, as we were the only two people we knew, and something happened.

He touched my leg.

As he stood up he touched my leg. I almost had a heart attack from butterflies. Really after that moment, the rest is history. This was another moment we laughed about later. He said he didn’t remember it, but I am 100% sure it was a calculated move.
We ended up in the same class at A-school and basically spent just about every free moment with each other. We had great weekends out in town and just hanging out at the beach on base. That time is full of fond memories. He also graduated first in our class, which was no surprise. It seemed that everything he did he excelled at and that he could not fail. I had no doubt that he would complete BUD/S, even though the odds were tough, because of his drive and natural ability to be the best at whatever he did. To me, he was invincible. I never thought that he wouldn’t succeed or come home.

When we were given our duty stations, somehow I managed to squeak by and get NAS Coronado in San Diego. Tyler was not in the running for orders as he already had his to BUD/S, also in Coronado. We were both ecstatic about this. We didn’t know what would happen if I was sent somewhere like the East Coast. For the time being, we were once again going to be in the same place. We both felt like we were destined to be together. We both went home on leave following A-school, but he made a detour to meet me in Montana and then we flew to San Diego together to start our next adventure together.

Tyler made it through and graduated from all of his training. I was not surprised. I was glad to be there to support him through and very proud to see him achieve his dream of becoming a SEAL. He was then headed to the East Coast to his duty station. I was still in San Diego and would be headed to Washington next. Over the next few years we spent ridiculous amounts of money flying across the country to see each other, sometimes for only one or two full days. I went on deployment and so did he. Eventually my enlistment was up and five years after we met we were married. Of course, those five years were full of ups, downs, learning experiences and love. The next three years we had together were really wonderful as we settled into our life, finally together.

Tyler was died in an accident July 16, 2010. The next day was the hardest morning of my life to wake up. It was the first morning without him alive. It hit me before I was fully awake…he died yesterday. I remember that fact floated up through my consciousness and then all of a sudden crashed into me, forcing me awake. I started crying and then ran to the bathroom to throw up.

It has been a long, and yet short, three and a half years. The first year I would say was a huge challenge. I managed to go back to school, only at the prodding of friends and family, and the leverage that Tyler was always a big proponent of me earning my degree. I managed to do it and graduated in 2012 with a degree in Psychology from Regent University. I have to say, without the wonderful people I was surrounded with, I can’t imagine where I would be. I still think to this day, that one of the biggest assets I had in being able to survive losing Tyler, was having amazing people in my life that encouraged me.

I managed to stay somewhat positive; though there were plenty of bad days and nights I had to get through. There was plenty of crying while driving, while renting a movie when they said the account was under his name, and even having to leave class a few times.

I decided after a year that I was going to be open to change. Maybe move, maybe date, whatever came my way that I wanted to try. I was going to take risks even though I was afraid to be judged, afraid to make mistakes, and afraid to be hurt. After all, I was still alive. I looked at all Tyler accomplished in his 30 years, and I knew he would never be okay with me living a mediocre life. Well, I ended up doing both! Which led to other wonderful opportunities. I have moved, I have a wonderful boyfriend that is able to support and handle my “widow status” and I have been able to return to my love of riding horses because of where we live. Not only that, I have also been able to compete in barrel racing, another dream that I thought long ago I would never have the chance to realize. It has been a year and I just won my first buckle in barrel racing with my amazing horse, Gigi.

There is so much more to my story, but this is a good summary. Since Tyler passed away I have learned that fear does nothing for us but cause more pain. I have learned though my faith was greatly challenged and God seemed far away at times, I know looking back now that He has been with me the whole time. I have learned that those that should be in your life will be there no matter what and you don’t have to worry about their judgment. They want you to be happy and succeed. Lastly, I have learned that is OKAY, really GREAT, to be happy after losing a spouse. You are now living life for two, so be even more motivated to go out and experience all life has to offer. My motto today is NEVER GIVE UP. We can take our tragedies and turn them into victories to help others! Just as Taryn has with the AWP! I hope that my story helps someone out there and that I get to meet some of you one day. Blessings, Chelsey

In loving memory of SO1 (SEAL) Tyler Stimson

No matter how much time goes by….

I have always thought that I would get around to writing my story. And now that it’s been 6 years it’s time. I’ve always started and stopped at the same time….I could never find the right words to describe my husband, my hero, and my guardian angel. Well here it goes, it’s better late then never.

I met my husband Dave in August of 2004. I had just gotten divorced and was getting my feet wet in the dating world. Much to my mothers dismay, online. With working so much that’s the only way I had a life. And I’m so glad that I did otherwise I wouldn’t have experienced the greatest love of my life. I digress…. I saw his picture online and he really wasn’t my “normal type” that I was attracted to. We decided to meet up at a Claim Jumpers restaurant in Tukwila for drinks (my momma didn’t raise a fool, public place). The first thing I noticed right away was his beautiful green eyes, a smile that could light up and room and a laugh that could draw you in. I was smitten right away. From there we went and saw the movie Without a Paddle, and laughed the night away, so much so that from that moment on we were together.

Fast-forward to Valentine’s day 2005 he asked me to marry him. I said yes and since we both had been previously married we decided to marry in Vegas, which we did a day after his birthday (so he could never forget the date), April 27,2005. That was the best day of my life, our best friends came with us to be our witnesses. And since neither of our families could attend had it aired live for them to see our joyous union.
Shortly beforehand he decided to move to a unit to stay in Washington State, at Fort Lewis ( he really loved it there). With the new unit he would be deploying to Iraq, ( my worst nightmare).

Well, needless to say, he did deploy in April of 2007. I thought I could handle it, after all this wouldn’t be my first time. My dad who is retired Air Force did a few tours during desert storm. And having my family close by was a good thing, Dave thought of everything, he didn’t want me not surrounded by my family.
We talked as much as we could, I sent him a cell phone so we could text as much as possible, did yahoo chat, I even got to see him whenever he was able to get to a computer that had webcam.

Now comes the hardest part, my husband was killed on September 5th,2007. Not in the way a soldier would want either, he was killed by one of our own…..
Wow right?????…. I’ll never forget the day I was notified I just came home from work… It doesn’t happen like it does in the movies. There was an Officer and a Chaplin that came, apparently they had been trying to notify me all day. And everyone else in my neighborhood figured it out before I was actually told ( we lived on post). There were some ladies standing in the street, I paid them no mind and went into the house. Then the dreaded doorbell ring, where unbeknownst to me my life would forever be changed. Are you Michelle Cooper??? Wife of SFC David A Cooper Jr..??? Once it was established I was they continued by saying “on behalf of the president and a grateful nation we regret to inform you”…….

I knew something wasn’t right. I asked what happened of course they couldn’t tell me because there was an investigation going on. I had to lay my husband to rest without knowing the truth, I still don’t know everything. The person that killed him roams free to enjoy his life. There was a trial, and my husbands killer got 24 months in jail I know right??? It was deemed negligent, wanton disregard for human life. So instead of murder, it was considered far less. And the worst part is that he got out after serving 18 months for good behavior…. I was so bitter with the Army, how could they protect a killer while slander my husbands good reputation, after all he had given 19 years to the Army, had so many glowing reviews, etc. sometimes I feel like I’m still so damn bitter… My love hate relationship with the Army… Still continues to this day.

There isn’t a day that doesn’t go by that I don’t think of my husband or the sacrifice that we had to make. He will always be my hero.
I have managed to move on with my life, one that I thought was over. I never thought that I would be widowed at 31 or that my husband would stay forever 36.

I’m so thankful for him, he provided me with so much, showed me what true love was all about.
I had to kiss a few frogs before him and after him, because he wasn’t and isn’t replaceable.
I know he’s looking down at me and watching over me, and helping me make some dreams come true.
I’m finally a mommy, I have a beautiful 2 1/2 month old baby girl with a good man. God does work in mysterious ways. Interesting how some prayers are answered and some aren’t.

So I continue to live my life for not only myself, for my daughter but especially for the man that couldn’t.. I hope my story can help others. I know it’s a way of keeping my Dave alive by talking about him. And or always look forward, I know I will see him again one day….

To my love, my hero and guardian angel there isn’t a day that you aren’t missed.
In honor and loving memory SFC David A Cooper Jr.

Unconditional Love… is Kevin’s Love for Me

He saved my life… Now, its my turn to save his.

I met Kevin when I first moved to Las Vegas 3 years ago. He was the maintenance supervisor of the apartment complex that I moved into. Always positive, wishing me luck for every job interview that I had and just “knew I would get it”.

When I moved out of the apartments, I had never thought I would see or even talked to him again, but sure as shit he called me and wanted to take me out to dinner. To get him off my back, or so I thought, I let him take me to dinner, Bautista’s. The plates were $22 a piece, a
little expensive for my taste but it was bomby. After dinner, he took me home still opening doors, and being an all around gentleman. And no, he didn’t stop calling. We had started dating but he was “my boyfriend w/o the title” lol (I’m a brat) May 5, 2011, we are making
his, now our, enormous bed and he says. “So do you want to be my girlfriend or not, because this whole boyfriend without the title thing is kinda silly.” I can’t help but say yes.

Kevin is by far the most phenomenal boyfriend ever! I would get surprised with roses at work, tulips and perfume on the table waiting for me to come home, he never got angry at me just spoiled me rotten. He said I was his queen and needed to be treated like one. I end up
moving in. We now live in his house in a beautiful gated community where my oldest son Cameron makes new friends, and loves life even more.

July 2011, Kevin is complaining of severe heartburn. It wont go away.He tells me his left arm feels numb. In a panic I call my aunt who tells me to “get him to the hospital, he is having a heart attack” (or about to) Not wanting to go, I have to call his daughter Sabrina, who
convinces him to let me take him. Good thing, he had 95% blockage in one artery and 78% in another… They rush him from Nellis Air Force Base to Sunrise Hospital. I’m there following the ambulance, waiting for surgery to be over. *sigh* all is good, and he feels like a new
man! (He was diagnosed with angina, and peripheral vascular/artery disease) Three cardiac stents later, we get to go home like nothing happened.

Things are still perfect, until…

Late October, early November, I make some really stupid decisions and start using drugs. I was arrested on January 2, 2012 and spent 4 days in jail for a habit Kevin knew nothing about. He, being the wonderful man he is, tries everything he can to get me out of jail. (including trying to put the house as collateral) Nothing works so he just takes care of my son. Being the crazy that I am, I started using again later in January and meet “some guy.” Let the fighting begin. Not having to hide my use. I move out of Kevin’s house and into this
new guys house with his 5 children. (wise decision I know) I thought life was just peachy. Until he wanted me to chose him over one of my best friends. She is a good woman, so that wasn’t going to happen. I move out of his house April 14, 2012 and stay with her for a little
while, Kevin keeps asking me to “come home.” I still hadn’t forgiven myself for what I did to him, and it wasn’t fair so I declined. He tells me about a community garage sale coming
up and said I can have all the profit. I take him up on that offer. At this garage sale, I am sick as a dog! and really tired. He buys me a pregnancy test. Its positive, and the baby isn’t his. But what does he do? He tells me that it’s time to come home so he can take care of me and this baby. One day when taking him to work (because my lovely ex ruined my car) I am all emotional and still not ok with the situation when I ask him “how can you be ok with this whole situation, knowing I’m having another mans baby.” he says, “well I don’t like it at all, but I love you and I am willing to see past it” I break into tears…WHAT A SLAP IN THE FACE! now, i keep reminding myself, ‘girl, if you fuck this up you are stupid!’

Throughout my pregnancy, I am just bat shit crazy… completely unable to control my hormones/emotions. But Kevin doesn’t care. He loves me and is dealing with all of the ups and downs. He is by my side through the court dates and helps with whatever financially that Cameron or I may need, without even thinking twice.

His vascular disease starts acting up in September, which was a pain in the ass. Here I am as big as a house, sharing a hospital bed with Kevin to make sure that he gets the proper care, and doesn’t lose his feet. (He wasn’t getting circulation to his legs or feet due to a
blockage) I accompany him in and out of the hospital for a few months. November, we notice a mass. Like his tonsils are swollen so we don’t think much of it. In the hospital for his PVD, they also treat him for “right neck cellulitis” Nothing works. After a few trips to the
hospital, and this mass on his neck getting bigger, we can no longer just blow “joey off” yes we named it. Trying to get help for this mass was near impossible. We were told that its just an infection, here are some antibiotics. All the test results are coming back fine. WTF is
really going on.

December 26, 2012. Kevin is called home early, I’m in labor! Hes really excited. Me, not so much. I have the baby just 4 hours after getting to the hospital. Kevin names him Colton. A healthy, and hairy, 7lb 3oz blue eyed, red haired bundle of joy!

Late January early February. Kevin is back in the hospital, he now can’t walk, the pain is too much for him to bear. Baby on one arm and Kevin in the wheelchair. Hospital again! More antibiotics, no help for the stents. Have a nice day, now go home. At a follow up appointment
we were even told “there is nothing there to biopsy” EXCUSE ME!!! WHAT IS THIS 2ND HEAD HE HAS THEN!?

March 14, 2013 the day before his scheduled stent surgery I have to call the ambulance, Kevin is feeling pressure in his chest and having trouble breathing. They rush him to Desert springs hospital and say that he has pneumonia. Weird? He just had the pneumonia vaccine, less
than 4 months ago. Here at desert springs they are concerned about “joey” his mass. The do a needle biopsy but don’t want to tell us the results. I literally have to demand it out of them. And still all she says was “the preliminary results showed malignant cells, but those
are not the final” What a load of shit! I’m not happy, something needs to be done, but they can’t and won’t help us. So basically make him discharge AMA-against medical advice, not caring that his oxygen levels are at 86% max without having the tubes in his nose. Finally I
get the Dr. to get a tank for us so that I can drive him to the Air force base. Another waste of time. All they do is keep him for a few days, take 300cc of fluid out and refer him to an oncologist. March 25th they tell him he has head and neck cancer.

At his follow up with the oncologist. She refers him out to a radiation therapy doctor, where he began treatment. He now has 3rd degree burns from this treatment we still don’t have an accurate diagnosis for.

May 6th we get flown out by the VA in Long Beach where he is supposed to have a lymph node biopsy. Basically they say there is nothing we can do for you have a safe flight home. IM NOT HAVING ANY OF THIS CRAP! I RAISE HELL! AND IM NOT EVEN JOKING. Needless to say they find
a Dr. who is willing to give it a shot and do the biopsy, from his left armpit. Not sure it will even be what we want, we take it. They do the Biopsy the 8th and we fly home the 9th.

May 20, its confirmed. Stage 4 lung, they want to start chemo immediately. We are at the hospital from 830 that morning until 2 that afternoon. He feels fine after his first infusion, and we go home. Tuesday he is a little nauseated, and cant stand the “stench.” The
burns from the radiation have his skin “rotting away” its very painful, and he says the smell drives him crazy! Since his mouth has been swollen shut for the past 3 months he hasn’t had a solid meal in that long. So when he goes to throw up, its literally nothing. Dry heaving and trying to over come the pain. I have to sit back and watch the man that has never given up on me… The man I love and want to spend my life with, in excruciating pain, unable to help him. He can’t even shower himself completely, how is he going to work.

Just having a baby, my old man being sick and I have to take care of him. It kills me to see him in pain, getting calls from insensitive bill collectors that are just doing their job. Its not their job to care about why we aren’t paying, they are just trained to get the money we owe. Disability takes their sweet ass time and my welfare ended due to a lovely worker that put me in sanction. We were lucky enough to have his sister & dad that have helped out financially but that cant go on forever. They have their own family lives to tend to and households to care for. His daughter and I have put together a few fundraisers to try to get help. All the cancer foundations “don’t have funding” for anything in Las Vegas. I’m running out of options here. June 8, 2013 I become Mrs. Kilpatrick! He tells me everyday how he is so happy that I married him. “I can’t believe that you’re my Mrs. Kilpatrick” “Thank you for loving me” “Thank you for taking such good care of me” “I couldn’t do it without you Mrs. Kilpatrick” “Hey Wifey!!! I love you” Those words still echo in my head. I’ll never get
to hear his voice say them to me again.

I can honestly say that he loved me unconditionally and I felt that I owed him so much because of it. So taking care of him while he was ill was the only way I could begin to do so. He never really asked anything of me, didn’t expect anything from me, he just loved me for
me!

I was there every time he had to be hospitalized, even if it meant spending time away from my little one for a night or two. So When he is admitted to ICU from his heart rate being over 200, you can bet your bottom that I was right there! I have to help the man I love, he has never given up on me and I refuse to give up on him. He is a phenomenal man. He has the patience of a rock, the heart of a God, and the soul of a saint! He is my man.

July 3, 2013, I’m half in a chair, half on his hospital bed. He had ran his fingers through my hair which ALWAYS puts me to sleep, but I wake to a nurse coming in the room. Shes trying to wake Kevin. “How long has this thing been going off” “Kevin, wake up can you hear me?”
“Where is his nurse?” Those words haunt my dreams… My husband is gone. I’m so lost, what do I do now. I haven’t worked in over a year! I have the baby and my oldest. I’m not entitled to SSA benefits and the VA is a bear. His family hates me. They say mean things, steal and even
fight for his cremains. I had no problem splitting them.

But now I am, all alone… just me and my boys. Completely rejected by his family. Having to find a way to grieve while still being a full time mom and figure out how in the heck I am going to manage the bills that I now have to put in my name, apply for jobs, not let my boys see how hurt I really am. If they knew I felt like I have a gigantic wound where my heart should be and someone is constantly pouring salt in it, I think it would really be bad for us all. I will stay strong, that is what kevin would want me to do.