**.. Is That a Lot? ..**

My dad wrote this about a year ago and it really meant a lot to me.  So, I wanted to share it with you.  

Is That a Lot?

By Anthony Johnston

After a lifetime of learning, from kindergarten to college, boot camp to 14 overseas military deployments including three tours in Iraq, I should not have been surprised to be reminded that not all learning - or teaching - is done in a classroom.

I drove down the road with my son, listening to the news and talking about life.  Of course the 'surge' in Afghanistan has received a lot of coverage, and arm-chair quarterbacks debated our two wars. A little later on in the newscast they talked about death tolls, the decline in Iraq and the increase that was anticipated for Afghanistan.  That was when my 12 year old son Jack got serious.

He asked about the people that had died in Iraq and Afghanistan. He asked about the ones that I had known personally, and then he added them up.  I knew it was 4380 killed in Iraq and guessed around 1000 (at the time) killed in Afghanistan and he came up with 5380 dead Americans.

Then he hit me with a question I may never be able to competently answer.

He said, "Dad, is that a lot?"

It took me a moment to recover enough to fumble for something that would pass as an answer. The next few minutes are still a little hazy to me. But in the meantime several thoughts bounced around in my mind.

I remembered that about 20,000 US service members were killed in a couple months in the Battle of the Bulge, and that we lost an average of 600 Americans every single day in the Civil War, I also thought about the 400,000 that gave their lives in the World War Two - 1450 of them on D-Day alone. I thought about the nearly 3000 killed in the Chosin Reservoir in two weeks during the coldest Korean winter on record back 1950, and the 52,000 men and women who gave the ultimate sacrifice in Vietnam.

But before you think me a hawk, or try to guess where I'm going with this, let me say that I've held onto the hand of a young Marine, as heroic medics and doctors fought in vain to save his life. I looked at his 19 year old face and wondered who he was, and what he could have become? These days I speak regularly with his family and I know as much about him as I know about my own nephew who served with me there. I know that he had a girlfriend and that he wanted to be a chef, together they wanted to start a family and open a restaurant. I know that his mother was a Native American and that had great influence on his life, and his culinary skills, and that she had recently died. I realize-as much as a stranger can-that he had so much to offer and that the hole left where his life once was will never be filled.  

I've seen the faces of dead young men while working in the hospital in Iraq, and they all stay with me every day, (and more nights than I'd care to think about.) I remember, as I documented and packed the belongings of one young man, wondering where his dad would be when he got the news? I thought about his reaction later when his sons' personal effects arrived at their home? I envisioned his dad viciously tearing apart the package that we had carefully prepared looking for that picture of the two of them at the lake, or the Saint Christopher medal that I had folded into a sheet of paper that contained my feeble words of sympathy and my dried tears.

I've also witnessed firsthand the carnage of the innocents caught between the forces of good and evil. I've seen entire Iraqi families killed by insurgents, their penalty for believing that we could help them to live free. I worked with a young girl who was the lone survivor of another attempted family execution and still to this day think of the mental anguish and physical pain she lives with- if she is still alive?

I've also seen the physical and emotional aftermath of combat in the faces of some young men and women I've met during my own 18 month treatment at the VA. Our arguing only serves to further isolate them from what they most desperately need - the support of the American people.

I believe that despite all the rhetoric, we are fighting for freedom for the Iraqi and Afghan people and the suppression of those thoroughly committed to terrorize us. There isn't much middle ground in the War on Terrorism. When our enemies are committed to our annihilation as a Nation there isn't much room for discussion.

Civil War General William T Sherman supposedly coined the phrase "War is Hell." He is also credited with "War is cruel and you cannot refine it" and "War at best is barbarism." I say he was an optimist. I believe that for each "Nuke 'em till they glow" there is an opposing "Make peace, not war" and in the end, like almost every other subject ever debated, the truth or the solution probably falls somewhere in between?

I have a great friend and mentor who is a doctor, we both root for Notre Dame, we both enjoy a good cigar and we have had occasion to sit down over a cold beer and talk about life. But we are polar opposites on many things like war and politics. We have had great exchanges over the years, we respect each other's opinions and in the end, we always walk away friends. Why we can't, as a Nation, do the same is beyond me. 

But for now, we are where we are and the lack of sacrifice in these current wars - at least for the great majority of our Nation, contributes in my humble opinion, to the disconnect between both sides.

So as much as I believe in what we are doing, I also understand and appreciate those who disagree. For I have seen firsthand what war can do to your soul.

I awkwardly tried to put all these emotions into words; I tried to explain to my son that if he, or one of his sisters, were one of those 5,380 lost lives that I just can't imagine that sacrifice. I stumbled around the conversation awhile longer. I talked about the historical references a little more and the personal losses I've witnessed and finally just decided to drop it. I thought that maybe when he was older he may be more prepared to try to understand what cannot be understood.

Then he asked what I would do if it was him? I told him I didn't want to talk about it anymore.

And I pray to God each day that we never have to know the answer to the last question.

 "5,380 lost lives….yes Jack, that is a lot."

**.. 2 years ago today ..**

Two years ago today one of the greatest men ever was taken away to be with his wife, my grandma and one of the greatest women ever.  Gosh I feel like it's been so much longer than that and I don't know why, because at the same time I feel like it was JUST yesterday.  I think about both of them often and I would give anything to spend just one more day with them.  I wrote this post two months after he passed away on my old blog and I would like to share it with you again today.      

MONDAY, APRIL 27, 2009

Grandpa Jim **

About 2 months ago, on Wednesday February 25th, around midnight, my grandpa Jim (my mom's dad) was taken to Lutheran Hospital by an ambulance.

The following day, I received a call from my dad .. telling me what had happened the night before and that my grandpa was not doing so great .. I may want to come up that day and see him. I told my dad that I would be there after classes that day, I had an accounting test that I needed to take.

Around 3:00 my sister Alex called me. She informed me that grandpa Jim was doing worse and she was headed up to see him right then. So, I met her at Lutheran (and had my friend Angie tell my professor that I would not be there for the test).

We got there at the same time and walked into a completely somber room .. together.

In the room was my mom (daughter), dad, aunt Lisa (daughter), aunt Karen (daughter), uncle Eric, aunt Roselyn, uncle Jim(son), and uncle Tone (son). My aunt Amy was in the hallway, we had passed her on our way in, she was on the phone with my aunt Deb (daughter), in Texas.

My grandpa just laid in the hospital bed, he could no longer speak and barely moved at all.

After being there for a little while .. (not sure of times, it is still a big blur) and nurses coming in and out checking his vitals .. my grandpa opened his eyes .. which he had not done yet .. and began shaking ..

Now, I had never seen a seizure before, but I was pretty sure that's what was happening (it was). We got a nurse to come in and she put something in his IV to prevent him from having any more seizures.

Let me tell you, I come from a fairly strong family.

I have only seen my mom cry, maybe 3 times in my whole life. And one of those times was when her mother, Ruth, passed from colon cancer .. more about that some other day. My dad has been coming and going overseas with the Air National Guard, since 2 weeks after I was born and even before they were married, and she never shows/showed any negative emotion. Same with the rest of my family, the only time I have seen them sad was when my grandma Ruth, their mom, passed.

And there was not a dry eye in the room.

Before my sister and I left that night, around 9:00, we both went up to my grandpa and held his hands. They were incredibly warm, actually they were incredibly hot. But we sat there and took turns talking to him and trying ease the tension and moods for my mom and her sisters. (Everyone else had either gone home to be with their children or went to get something to eat at the cafeteria). We both said good bye and kissed him good night on the forehead.

This was the 26th of February and my lease was up on the 28th. So, I was in the process of moving all my things over these couple days.

On Friday, the 27th, I went up to the hospital around noon. I was there for about 3 or 4 hours and I told everyone I would be back later that evening, I had some moving to get done. I kissed my grandpa Jim on the forehead and said good bye. Then took a load of my stuff to my new house, went back to my apartment and filled my car up again.

On my way over to my house again, at 7:15, I got the worst call of my life. It was my brother Jack ..

Jack: Kaiti, grandpa's dying, I got to go.

Me: Wait, what?

Jack: He's dying right now, we are on the way to the hospital.

Me: Okay, I will meet you there.

I took off like a bat out of hell in the opposite direction, to Lutheran Hospital. Of course, I got stuck behind slow drivers, but everything happens for a reason.

I called my Alex immediately and let her know what was going on (she was at Austin's, her boyfriends last basketball game). She asked me if she should come up, I told her it was up to her. He would probably already be gone by the time she made it out there and she didn't want to see him how we had the day before.

I got to the hospital and ran up to the room. And there stood my mom, hunched over the hospital bed, staring at him and crying, and saying that it was not fair.

(My mom had been at the hospital since Wednesday night and had left at 6:30 to go home and shower, change her clothes and come back up for the night and next however long. All her sisters and brothers had taken their turns going home and doing the same. Granite my uncle Jim was at his sons basketball game, but everyone else was there when he passed. She got the call not 2 seconds after she got home, walked in the door and put her purse down. My dad had lit candles for her and drew her a hot bath, so she could hopefully relax and take her mind off things for a bit. So they blew the candles out and took off, back to the hospital.)

Jack was the only one there who was younger than me, and Jessica was the only other grand kid up there at the time. She is 3 years older than me. The rest was my aunts and uncles, my aunt Deb was on the phone.

We all just sat there in disbelief, most of us cried. My dad tried to ease the tension, by talking about what a wonderful person my grandpa Jim was.

It was quite possibly one of the worst nights of my life.

So, today marks 2 months, since he has been gone, and I still feel like I am in a horrible dream, that will not stop.

I think about him every single day and usually cry about the memories a couple times a week. People say I just need to accept it and move on, but I am not sure just how I am supposed to do that.

My grandpa Jim, was one of the strongest people I knew. And with that, we were are not a family to ever really hug or say I love you. But when I went to see him I always gave him a hug good bye and very seldom said I love you.

I sent him cards, on every holiday, baked him desserts, and spent as much time with him as I could .. whenever I did not have something 'better' to do. And let me tell you that is not easy to type, but it is the truth. I regret nothing more then being too 'busy' to go spend time with him.

I love you grandpa .. and I will never forget you .. ever.

**.. dreaming ..**

I woke up this morning sobbing, not something that happens everyday.  Before I begin I should say that I have a horrible fear of losing my parents.  Probably because of everything going on with my dad and this traumatic brain injury.

I was having a dream about my dad flying a jet.  (He is in the Air Force but he is in avionics, not flying so that was kind of weird.)  I was at a party and my dad was flying over the party doing all kinds of tricks.  It was near the end so he made the wings of the jet go back and forth to say 'goodbye', the end.  Then he flipped the jet upside down and flew across with it like that.  Then out of nowhere it just crashed.

All of the sudden I was at the base and I took off running towards the accident.  It seemed to be a drill weekend because there was a bunch of people there.  These guys kept trying to hold me back and they said, "Kaitlin, this is not something that you want to see" and I kept saying, "Please I have to go, please let me go".

I finally get to the accident and my dad and the jet are gone and I am in a little room with all of his things.  (My dad has a ton of things from his past, all kinds of neat treasures that have been passed down)    In the room there was stuff from his racing days, important coins and just random things.  I started ripping all of the pictures down and trying to take everything that I could.  I knew that my dad was gone and I didn't want someone else to go through his things.

Then my dad was there and he started talking to me.  He said things like, Kaiti it's going to be okay.  I am fine and you guys will be fine.  Don't spend time thinking about this you just need to move on with your life.  These things aren't what's important but I want you all to have them.  etc... Then my uncle appeared and he said it's crazy to think that all you have been through and a freak jet accident is what took you.  we all sat there and agreed that is was weird.  Then another one of my uncles appeared and he had letters that he had written to his kids and that his kids had written to him and he said, You know what Tony, we never had a relationship like you have with your kids.  The things that you guys say to each other and the things you guys do together, we don't have those kinds of memories.

And I woke up in tears.  I was rolling back and forth across my bed and I was sad.

My brother had a game this morning.  When I got there I went over and told my mom my dream and I started crying again.  She said, "Kaitlin, you should write that down.  When I had the dream about my dad I didn't write it down and I couldn't tell anyone because it hurt so much and now I can't remember exactly what he said."  (My mom has lost both of her parents in the past 5 years and she really struggled with it.  She had a dream a few months ago where her dad came to her and said, "Mar, you have had time to grieve but it's time to move on.  We don't want you to spend your life thinking and missing us.  We are here and in a better place where we are both healthy and we love it.")

So I wrote it down and I cried again while typing it.

** .. it's been 5 years today .. **

In 1998, I was in the fourth grade.  I had been at a girl scout meeting after school, my dad came and picked me up and said that my mom had something to tell me when I got home.  I went straight to my room to start working on my homework and wait for her to come talk to me.  I remember I was sitting in one of those blue inflatable chairs when my mom came in.  She asked me about my day then said, "Kaitlin, do you know what cancer is?"  It caught me off guard but I drudged through an answer and she said, "Yes, that is correct.  They think that grandma Ruth has colon cancer."  I immediately started to cry and assumed that my grandma was dying that week.  We talked a little bit more and she told me not to talk about it at school because my other cousins might not know and it just wasn't something they wanted going around so quickly.  (My grandma didn't like for people to talk about her.  She pretty much kept to herself.)

She went through chemotherapy and radiation and treatments and all kinds of other things.  Tons and tons of appointments and meetings.  It was just never ending.  The next couple years are hazy as far as doctor's appointments and treatments.  I know she beat the cancer at least once, maybe twice.  As soon as she beat it another form would come on and it would be worse than the first time.  She lost her hair and wore wigs, but remained beautiful through it all. 

In the Fall of 2005 my grandma got pretty bad.  We decided to get a family picture taken.  I don't have a copy on my computer, but it was gorgeous.  There was my grandma and grandpa, all 6 kids and thier spouses, and all 22 grandchildren and 1 great grand child.  We all wore jeans and white shirts it was so neat!  November 7th grandma turned 68 and her kids and their spouses threw a surprise birthday party dinner for her in THEIR basement, becasue she couldn't really get out.  They had food catered in and I heard it was just awesome.  

By this time all she wanted was to make it through the holidays and she did just that.  On Christmas Eve she sat in her chair with swollen ankles and patchy hair and she watched us open gifts, then opened her own and we all sat around and hung out.  She was happy but in pain and everyone could tell.  Around NewYear's she started to get really bad.  We all took turns going to visit her individually and to say good bye.  

I was 17 years old and had never lost anyone close to me before.  I was afraid to go over there alone (not because she was a scary person .. I was afraid of losing her).  I asked my brother who was 8 to come with me.  Before we left to go over there,

Jack asked my dad, "What do I say to her?" 

Dad said, "She is your grandma, just say what ever comes to your mind.  You can begin with, "Grandma I know you are sick and the cancer is taking over your body.  You are going to a better place soon and I will miss you."  

Jack said okay and we got in my '97 red cavalier and made the 2 minute drive to my grandparents house.    We got there and everyone was gone, as we had planend out when people could have their alone time.  We walked in through the garage and into the living room.  

She was sitting in her rocking chair all alone.  I didn't get the door shut and I was crying like a baby.  I stood by the door and turned around.  She said "Oh Kaiti, it's okay, come in here."  

Jack went straight over to her, stood by her chair and said, "Grandma I know you are sick and the cancer is taking over your body.  You are going to a better place soon and I will miss you." (Exactly what dad said)  It was quite possibly one of the saddest momements of my life.  

She responded with something sweet, I can't remember because I was too busy crying.  Then she said to me, "Kaiti look at it outside, it's rainy and gloomy and the sun hasn't been out for days.  I am ready to go.  I know that I am going to a better place and I am ready for that.  I'm sick and tired and ready to go."  I just sat there and cried and cried.  I went on about how unfair it was that it was her time.  She was too young to die (68) and to have been through all of this crap.  

She was ready though, her time here was complete.   She had impacted people's lives in incredible ways.  She was a wise, strong woman, who worked hard her whole life, she was married for 48 years, had 6 wonderful kids all married to wonderful people, with 22 grandchildren and 1 great grand child.  She was thrilled with all she had been given.  

We sat there for an hour or so and watched football (the Bengals).  We left and I gave my grandma a hug and kiss goodbye (which we typically did not do, that's just how that side of the family works).  The next couple of days I skipped my intership to spend the afternoons at their house with family and friends.  At some point during the week she was moved to a hospital bed in a bedroom (she didn't want to be in the living room for everyone to see her).  

On Friday afternoon I went there straight after school and so did Alex.  Alex was leaving for Florida in an hour and wanted to say goodbye.  My dad brought her over and they left and my mom had just left to go to work.  Jessica (my cousin) and I were sitting in her room reminiscing when grandma started to breath very slow, deep breaths.  Jessica said the hospice nurse mentioned that when she was breathing like that it meant the end was near.  So we got up and went into the living room where Jessica's mom, two sisters and my grandpa were.  She said something to my aunt and we all went back there and in those 2 minutes she had gone to Heaven.  

It's been 5 years today.  Not a day goes by that I don't think about this wonderful woman.  Grandma Ruth, you were truly an inspiration and I would give anything to be the woman you were.  I love you.

My mom, my great grandma, my grandma Ruth and me.

(not a great picture but 4 genertaions!)

** .. new years resolution .. **

I decided last night that one of my new year's resolutions for 2011 would be to blog more frequently.  Blogging for me is like a journal, where I write quite a bit at once then let it go for a while, then come back and write another big post to catch up, and no one likes that.  It's a pain to read and even to write.  Therefore I would like to better my blog and allow my readers to follow my journey through life one day at a time, instead of weeks or months at a time.  I am very excited and hope that I can manage to keep up with it!

Tonight I waited tables.  I made about $70, which isn't too bad for 5 1/2 hours of work.  All of my customers were polite, which helps a ton!

I have waited on this particular group of 6 since I began working here, about 6 or 7 years ago, nearly every Sunday night.  It is 2 couples and 2 other ladies, all of the 4 ladies are sisters and the one couple Moe and Marlene were close friends to my Granda Jim and Grandma Ruth.  Anyway, tonight 5 of them came in, minus one husband and I asked where he was?  They looked at me and looked down, finally Moe said that he had passed away.  (I have been on vacation and had family Christmas's the past few Sundays so I haven't been around recently, I obviously hadn't heard).  I felt horrible and the wife looked like she was going to cry and I apologized.  I have never felt so bad in my life.  They could not have been any better about it though and I am extremely grateful!

Other than that it was a great night, I brought home chicken gizzards and wings to share with my brother.  Everyone else was in bed, they went gambling today!  I am staying at parents house tonight because I go back to my gym teaching tomorrow.  Hopefully the kids aren't too crazy from Christmas Break!