What if you were invited back to the 30th reunion of your son’s graduation class at the United States Military Academy in West Point, New York? Instant acceptance, right?
What if your son, just eight years out of the military academy and on his way to a great leadership career as an Army officer, died in the most bizarre situation you could imagine at age 29? The invitation was worded in such a kind way. There would be a memorial service during the weekend for those of the class of 1984 who had departed. That invitation was received this afternoon and, quite honestly, had me reeling from the moment I opened it.
Trust me on this–you NEVER get over it. This invitation only reminded me of that irrefutable fact.
Would you return to the scene of so many matchless moments of pride to be reminded of what might have been?
Just wondering what you would do?
Duke
Duke, I cannot even begin to feel your pain. But I think I understand how you never get over a loss. I’m so sorry that this invitation intruded on whatever peace you have achieved and brought back such horrible memories. No, I would not return to the scene. I would continue to move on from there, and here. Which as you know, I have tried to do. But if you decide to go, I understand that too.
Sending you big hugs now, which I will deliver in person soon.
With bells on, I’d be there.
I would decline in the most abbreviated way possible, and make plans to go on a trip to take my mind off “the day” (that may have gone unnoticed but now won’t)! I am so sorry the wound has been reopened, and hope you can get over the pain once more. With hugs….
My first personal reaction was no I couldn’t go. My more considered response is I would go. But my reply here is in the context of my own loss. For a long long time I could not return to any place that reminded me of my first husband and that cut done my world considerably. After about ten years I returned to the town where he died and was welcomed by friends who also loved him. In retrospect it gave me a new framework through which I could view the place.
The gifts of your post are that it can open us all to be more sensitive to each other and to accept that whatever one person decides, is the right thing for him/her. There are many different ways to do the right thing.
I can only imagine the pain that message could bring with it. If I were in such a position, my first reaction would be unrelenting anger. My second would be to go somewhere and be alone to relieve the grief and come to grips with it … again. Thirdly, I would seek solace from the one I always go to in times of stress, my wife. From that point on, it is difficult to say what I may do. It could involve a harsh letter sent or a phone call seeded with unrepeatable words. Perhaps stone-cold silence. I really don’t know what my total reaction would be.
I can only council you that whatever happens, cannot unhappen. Therefore sorrow and the sorrowful must be left in the past, neither forgotten nor dwelled upon. Be well. Duke.
i am so VERY sorry for your pain and sadness. Reopening such painful old wounds is tough. Its also opportunity for deeper healing and what you and your wife do is a very personal decision. Attending proudly this reunion and remembering your SON in positive ways if you are able to may help further your healing.Do whatever FEELS right for both of you.May the Love of close Friends bring you both comfort.Your Love of God will bring you Peace. Blessings
I’ve discovered amazing things about loved ones who have passed when I’ve spent time with their friends. Personally, I love hearing stories about my friends and family who are no longer with me – the stories give me new memories of my loved one.
Only you can decided what to do – your heart will lead you.
It really doesn’t matter what we would do, does it? But if your post here garners replies that either comfort you or warms your heart, then the reunion might do so as well. I have had a reunion with Gary a time or two in my thoughts. Whether he was beating me in cross-country, or a fellow thespian in the school play, or just laughing on the school bus, his smile and kindness were an inspiration I will never forget. I can’t help but wonder what impact he made on his friends at the USMA and what stories they may have. You have the unquestioned right to attend…or not. God bless you both.