My husband was medically retired from the Army on March 28, 2011. He had severe PTSD and a TBI caused by an injury in Iraq in 2005. He had undergone brain surgery in 2008. From the moment he woke up, he was in debilitating pain from a severed nerve in his abdomen. He struggled to live his life as a civilian for nearly a year after his retirement. He was only 26, walking with a cane and unable to do any type of physical activity beyond walking short distances (generally just to get from point A to point B). He was unbelievably intelligent. Maybe even too smart fro his own good. He often over analyzed things, but always amazed me with his point of view. His view point was always completely different and far more thoughtful than others. It was impressive to say the least.
Friends described him as smart and noble. Everyone agreed they had never met anyone like Trey before. Truly one of a kind. Honestly, an amazing human being. He was weighed heavily with the guilt of the things he had to do as an Infatryman while in Iraq. He always said that they were just trying to provide for their families just like he was. These men were killing his brothers and trying to kill him and, even though he carried out his duties, he was sympathetic to these men. Over the course of the year after retirement he became more hopeless. As a young man who couldn’t live life very effectively, let alone like a 26 year old, who now felt like he was achieving nothing and would never amount to anything because of his injuries. He had recurring brain surgeries to look forward to every 5 years to replace the shunt placed in 2008. He felt like a burden and carried guilt about every instance of losing his temper or being unable to complete a task or fulfill a promise because of his inability.
On March 26, 2012 he was preparing to put gas in his car so he would be ready to go to school that afternoon without rushing. He ran upstairs to change and came down the stairs smiling telling me he’d be right back. He kissed me three times, like he always did, holding the third a little longer than the first two. Then the last thing I remember was seeing him walk out of the front door. He spent 4 hours that morning playing Mario Brothers with our youngest son while the others were at school. About 15 minutes after he left I felt sudden anxiety and called his phone 5 times with no answer. I then sent a text telling him we were coming to search for him as I feared he was in an accident. As i opened the front door to load our son into the car, an officer was walking up the driveway. I immediately started crying and asking if he was okay and if he was in an accident. The officer ignored my question as he talked to another officer on his cell phone confirming the situation. In the middle of me asking, again, about if he had been in an accident the officer said to me “Ma’am, your husband shot himself”. I later learned that he was found barely alive, gasping for air and was kept alive 15 minutes after reaching the hospital before succumbing to his injury. From the moment he was pronounced dead I was never angry with him the way everyone expected. I felt tremendous guilt that I couldn’t be there for him in his most desperate moment. He died alone. He died unhappy. He’s in a better place now and I wouldn’t change anything, as I know his death was ultimately freedom from his anguish. I wouldn’t change anything except having some way to comfort him as he slipped away. I can still see his back as he walked out of the front door and me sitting there with absolutely no idea what was about to happen.
I miss him every second of every day, but am comforted by the knowledge that, whether you believe in God or not, he’s happier now. Be it in heaven or just for the simple fact that he’s no longer suffering. I still sleep with his cologne soaked sweatshirt and the boys and I talk about him everyday. I have a framed poster size picture of him from our wedding, in his Class A’s and talk to it often. He was an incredible man and changed a lot of people’s lives. He now has a scholarship named after him and a fundraising walk for TBI that was started by his friends in his name. It’s good to know I’m not the only person who will know how truly amazing he was.
He ran upstairs to change and came down the stairs smiling telling me he’d be right back. He kissed me three times, like he always did, holding the third a little longer…
Truly Amazing
My husband was medically retired from the Army on March 28, 2011. He had severe PTSD and a TBI caused by an injury in Iraq in 2005. He had undergone brain surgery in 2008. From the moment he woke up, he was in debilitating pain from a severed nerve in his abdomen. He struggled to live his life as a civilian for nearly a year after his retirement. He was only 26, walking with a cane and unable to do any type of physical activity beyond walking short distances (generally just to get from point A to point B). He was unbelievably intelligent. Maybe even too smart fro his own good. He often over analyzed things, but always amazed me with his point of view. His view point was always completely different and far more thoughtful than others. It was impressive to say the least.
Friends described him as smart and noble. Everyone agreed they had never met anyone like Trey before. Truly one of a kind. Honestly, an amazing human being. He was weighed heavily with the guilt of the things he had to do as an Infatryman while in Iraq. He always said that they were just trying to provide for their families just like he was. These men were killing his brothers and trying to kill him and, even though he carried out his duties, he was sympathetic to these men. Over the course of the year after retirement he became more hopeless. As a young man who couldn’t live life very effectively, let alone like a 26 year old, who now felt like he was achieving nothing and would never amount to anything because of his injuries. He had recurring brain surgeries to look forward to every 5 years to replace the shunt placed in 2008. He felt like a burden and carried guilt about every instance of losing his temper or being unable to complete a task or fulfill a promise because of his inability.
On March 26, 2012 he was preparing to put gas in his car so he would be ready to go to school that afternoon without rushing. He ran upstairs to change and came down the stairs smiling telling me he’d be right back. He kissed me three times, like he always did, holding the third a little longer than the first two. Then the last thing I remember was seeing him walk out of the front door. He spent 4 hours that morning playing Mario Brothers with our youngest son while the others were at school. About 15 minutes after he left I felt sudden anxiety and called his phone 5 times with no answer. I then sent a text telling him we were coming to search for him as I feared he was in an accident. As i opened the front door to load our son into the car, an officer was walking up the driveway. I immediately started crying and asking if he was okay and if he was in an accident. The officer ignored my question as he talked to another officer on his cell phone confirming the situation. In the middle of me asking, again, about if he had been in an accident the officer said to me “Ma’am, your husband shot himself”. I later learned that he was found barely alive, gasping for air and was kept alive 15 minutes after reaching the hospital before succumbing to his injury. From the moment he was pronounced dead I was never angry with him the way everyone expected. I felt tremendous guilt that I couldn’t be there for him in his most desperate moment. He died alone. He died unhappy. He’s in a better place now and I wouldn’t change anything, as I know his death was ultimately freedom from his anguish. I wouldn’t change anything except having some way to comfort him as he slipped away. I can still see his back as he walked out of the front door and me sitting there with absolutely no idea what was about to happen.
I miss him every second of every day, but am comforted by the knowledge that, whether you believe in God or not, he’s happier now. Be it in heaven or just for the simple fact that he’s no longer suffering. I still sleep with his cologne soaked sweatshirt and the boys and I talk about him everyday. I have a framed poster size picture of him from our wedding, in his Class A’s and talk to it often. He was an incredible man and changed a lot of people’s lives. He now has a scholarship named after him and a fundraising walk for TBI that was started by his friends in his name. It’s good to know I’m not the only person who will know how truly amazing he was.
9 thoughts on “Truly Amazing”
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Thank you so much Sarah, for sharing your story and what you and Larry faced each day. God bless him and you. Stay connected. Sending you (((hugs))) and <3.
Sarah, your strength and enlightened telling of you and your husband’s story are so strong and powerful. I will pray for you and your children (and will pray for your husband).
🙂
I’m so sorry. I wish we as a Nation would do more to help the men & women who volunteer to protect our freedom and defend our constitution and suffer for it. I am grateful that you found the strength to understand, and I hope he found peace in his actions. I hope you know there are millions of us who mourn with you, who smile in the remembrance of brilliant, kind, generous patriotic heroes, who wish and try to do better by those who serve. Rest easy in knowing, You will see him on the other side.
C
I’m so sorry. I wish we as a Nation would do more to help the men & women who volunteer to protect our freedom and defend our constitution and suffer for it. I am grateful that you found the strength to understand, and I hope he found peace in his actions. I hope you know there are millions of us who mourn with you, who smile in the remembrance of brilliant, kind, generous patriotic heroes, who wish and try to do better by those who serve. Rest easy in knowing, You will see him on the other side.
C
Sarah, I just got through the 2nd year…I read your story and thought of how one gets through this? People often say time will heal. Not sure of that. Larry was an LSO talker on the USS Kitty Hawk and loved every moment of it. When he retired he worked for United Airlines. He could fix anything! He went went into the hospital on October 19, 2010 and nine days later he was gone. We had no children, I, no family…so it goes. Yes I cry, but I talk to him all the time and I know he talks to me. Our love ones can let us know they are still here if we will just listen. I still hold fast to the flag I was handed the day they buried him…His body may have died, but he is still here. Sarah, your husband sounds like he loved you so much…hold tight to that.
Dear Sarah, Your letter broke my heart and I’m so sorry that you both had to go through this terrible tragedy at such a young age. Even though I was married for almost 22yrs to my retired Navy Chief and he was 20 yrs older than myself, I can fully understand what you dealt with for the short time your husband was retired. Mine served stateside during the Vietnam era training many recruits who never made it home and carried that guilt with him every single day. Our 3 young children couldn’t understand the mood swings because PTSD was unheard of during his career. Only I “got it” and would make excuses for him. He never blamed the Navy for disregarding his hypertension. It eventually killed him very suddenly. I’m 54yrs old and it’s been almost 3 yrs now and I still talk to him every day. My oldest son is just a little younger than your husband. Please make sure you look into every benefit you’re entitled to as the proud widow of the fine young man you married. Make sure you apply for Dependent Indemnity Compensation (DIC) because he was disabled. Put in for the Dependent’s Educational Assistance you and your kids are eligible for as the widow of a disabled military member. You can all go to college and receive a stipend of almost $950.00 per month in addition to financial aid and still keep your monthly DIC check. DIC is usually twice the amount of regular SBP retirement and you will be reimbursed for any premiums paid while he was alive. If you have any questions about the info I’ve given you please feel free to contact me through my email address at “athing4palmtree@aol.com” and I’ll be more than happy to answer any questions you have about these benefits because the Dept of Veteran’s Affairs will have you pulling your hair out of your head. You sound like a very strong young lady and I know you will get through this. Please take care of yourself for your children, they need you very much.
Sarah,
How close to home your story touched me! My beloved husband Doug, died the day before your wonderful hero, on March 25, 2012. He also shot himself but unfortunately, in our home and I found him. Although he did not have the severity of problems as your husband, I do believe that he did also suffer from PTSD and as a result, depression. He injured his back when he was in the Air Force 30 years ago, underwent 3 surgeries, and I’m not sure he ever got any relief. I too feel insurmountable guilt and anguish that I had no idea and that I couldn’t help him and be with him at the worst. I long for that last kiss, because I didn’t get one before I went to walk the dog…..
They are both in a much better place, and happy, and pain-free. I try to keep that in my mind. I miss my Doug with an intensity that is immeasurable. I pray for some peace for you and your children, and me and our children. God Bless you! You are an amazingly strong woman!!! I will be praying for you and your family!
I realize that you chose the title to describe Trey, but it describes his wife well. I will be praying for you and your family.
He promised to love you the rest of his life, and did