Rest in peace Matthew J.

When you lose someone close to you it is always difficult. But losing my 20-year-old cousin has been the most mentally and emotionally challenging time of my life. On September 18, 2007 Cpl. Matthew J. Emerson died in Iraq in a rollover Humvee accident that threw him out of the vehicle. The Army was his life-long dream and he got to live it. He joined the Army during his senior year in high school and shipped out to boot camp just a month after graduation in July 2005.

My dad always said, "Matt has been here before." That sounds a little weird, but it seemed so true if you knew him. He was a quiet, scrawny little boy who never had a lot to say. But when he spoke, it was often with a wry sarcasm hardly normal in a young child. He seemed not to have much interest in the nonsense most kids enjoy and spoke with wisdom beyond his years. Matt was not really a good student. Not that he wasn't smart - he just wasn't interested and didn't want to bother with things that weren't interesting to him. He didn't want to go to college, he wanted to join the Army. So whatever it took to get there was all that mattered in his education.

I remember many conversations with my husband and my parents about Matt's "obsession" with the Army. He was always dressing in camouflage to play war games or paintball. He had books and could tell you more than you probably ever wanted to know about the Army. But we all thought it was just a childhood fantasy and that he didn't really understand what he was getting in to. Many of us encouraged him to go to college first and then decide. But Matt was not to be deterred from his dream. He understood - way better than any of us - what he was getting in to. Mind you, after he enlisted there were many times he may have missed all of us and wondered what he got himself into, but he always knew what he wanted.

Matt was the baby of the family and wasn't supposed to die. There are so many other things he had yet to experience. His death seems so harshly unfair. From the moment my Mom told me he was dead and I began screaming, "No, no, no," until the current hour I sit blogging...I just can't wrap my tiny little brain around it all. My heart continually aches and this overwhelming sadness randomly overcomes me. And what do I do when this happens? Especially while I am at the grocery store or eating lunch with my 2 and 3 year-olds. They don't know what is going on in my heart and mind and I am certainly not just going to bring it up. I have to keep trudging along and deal with my grief within the confines of daily life.

Words of Wisdom

Recently I took my 2-year-old and my 87-year-old grandmother shopping for a new television for Nanny - that's what we call my grandma. We first ventured to Costco and checked out the selection. She really liked the 37" Vizio LCD flat panel and the price wasn't too bad. Of course, every TV there has a thousand times better picture than the tube in a box she has had for the last 25 years! We decided to try Wal-Mart too, just to see if there was any other brands for a good deal and a little less money.

Long story short, we ended up with the Vizio and brought it back to my house in the back of the van. After pulling into the garage, Nanny and I got out and I unbuckled my 2-year-old so she could climb out. We went into the driveway to see if we could clean out Nanny's trunk and make room for the new TV. Nanny asked my if I had unbuckled my daughter because she hadn't come out. I hollered out to her, "Lexi, what are you doing?" She responded with the standard, "Nothing" and we continued rearranging the trunk. A minute later I ventures to the back of the van to take out the TV, only to find my daughter with the devilish grin sitting in the backseat of the van. Again I asked, "Lexi, what are you doing?" and she kindly responded with "Nothing." I carried the TV to the trunk of Nanny's car to find it was just a few inches too long to fit. So back to the garage I went with the TV and to check on the munchkin. I could see she was eating out of her big sister's leftover snack baggie, but again I foolishly asked, "Lexi, what are you doing." Her response was.......you guessed it - "Nothing." But as I grinned she went on to say "I already told you three times."

WOW - that was not what I had expected, but I didn't know whether to laugh or grab the soap. Had my barely 2-year-old daughter really just smarted off to me? I just walked away chuckling and told Nanny the story. She thought it was funny too, but agreed that I am truly going to be tested by my youngest, but oh so observant daughter.