On Christmas morning we where having a typical lazy "Wheeler morning". Hero had gone up to take a shower and I was laying on the loveseat channel surfing, when there was a loud knock at the door. When I answered it, there stood our squadron's first shirt "Tank". His face told me that he was the bearer of bad news, still I just thought someone was in need and needed to get food from the pantry. He could barely get out the words that he needed to come in and talk to me and that he had a Red Cross message for me. I instantly knew this was horrible news from home. Tank said that it was one on my brothers, immediately I began to sob and ask over and over, "Which one?"
At the sound of my crying Hero came down the stairs and swooped me into his arms. Still I was sobbing and asking, "Which one?" Tank asked me for the names of my brothers, and I told him that I have a Bobby, JC, Jacob and Westly. The names I had said were not on his list so he and Hero went into the kitchen to confer. Then Hero returned, again taking me in his arms and whispered in my ear, "It is Joshua."
Falling to the floor I began to cry, "He's too young!" over and over again.
After I regained some composure, Tank expressed his sympathy and asked if we wanted to go home. I nodded my head yes while still trying to grasp the concept of my brother's death. After taking some information from us, Tank left and said that he would call as soon as he had our flight arrangements.
My first call was to my mother, I had to know how. The only news she had for me was that my brother had been drinking, cleaning a gun and accidentally shot himself. We didn't talk long, it was 1am her time and she was exhausted. I told her that we were on our way home and that I would call her back later that evening when I knew when we would be flying in.
The shock of this dreadful news sent me into a mode somewhat like auto-pilot. I was mindlessly throwing clothes into piles to be washed, sending emails to friends to let them know, and making arrangements for a friend to come over and feed our cat, Gibbon while we were out. We kept our dinner engagement at Hero's aunt's house, but I am afraid I was not the best of company.
The next day we flew out of London Heathrow to go home to Portland, Oregon. That day and the following week seem a blur to me. I tried my hardest to put up a strong front, to help in any way I could to do what was needed.
Now I am home and I can put away my armor and be vulnerable again. Now my grieving begins. My brother left so many unanswered questions. What was he thinking? Why did he have a gun? The medical examiner and detectives have ruled his death an accident, but something in my heart tells me this was no accident. It hurts to admit that this may have been something he chose to do, did he chose to take his life? That is the biggest question on my heart. All of these questions will not be answered in my life time, I will just have to find the courage to set them aside. I am haunted by the longevity of the short term decisions my brother made. He made the decision to drink, and he made the decision to be in control of a gun while he was drinking. Neither of which go together.
JC, I miss you and love you. Hang tight where you are at; one day we will be reunited again as a family. I'd like to be here as long as possible, so you may have to wait an awful long time. But you can count on a long conversation on timing when I get there. Until then....Peace out and "I love you man!"
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