I Believed Them

An all expenses paid trip to Disney World. Thats the email I got. Excitement should have embraced me but instead I didn't utter a word to anyone for months. I looked at the email unsure what to make of it. I waited for followup information and received very little. Months went by as the date loomed. Little excitement came as I thought of getting on that plane. Briefly here and there I imagined standing in front of the castle, of the joy on my children's faces, and of feeling like I was doing a "childhood staple." But as I reached the week coming up, panic consumed me. What exactly did I sign up for? Why did I think it was going to be fun? What part of my brain hit submit on this form to go? That part, seemed to have vanquished into nothingness as I stared at an empty suitcase.

I started to prepared. Canceling standing appointments because we would be out of town. Excitement from the person on the other line when I explained where we would be going. Then to my surprise, I uttered these words "The Gary Sinise Foundation is taking us to Disney World because this is what our husband's would have done for our kids if they were alive to do it." Silence on both ends of the line as we both let my words catch up from our ears that heard, our hearts that felt, and then finally our minds that understood. This trip was special, but it was something that for most families was in the plans already. Some of them when they were only dreaming of being parents. Now here we are spouseless and packing a bag to get on a private plane to the Magic Kingdom. 

As the way-too-early 4am alarm went off, I woke the kids and we headed to the airport. We got out of the car and walked inside the surprisingly busy airport at 5am on a Saturday. A sign "Snowball Express this way" was hanging over the "check bags here" sign. That. Was. Us. This beautiful sign, right next to a glowing Christmas tree was a lane just for us. We cruised through TSA and found our gate. The Gate was decorated, blocked off, and a bag to fill with snacks was open and free for the taking. I sat down next to the other families wondering if a nap was in my future. 

As we boarded the plane, our eyeballs consumed candy cane decorations and tinsel from top to bottom. Cheerful and excited fight attendants greeted us with professions such as "it our privilege to be here!" and I believed them. In fact, that was the theme of the trip to the "Most Magical Place on Earth." I believed every person that was there to bring this trip to life, wanted to be. Finally on the plane and in my seat, I heard the chatter start from those around me and the stillness of that 'breathing out feeling' I get when I am around others who are like me. Navigating widowhood every day, but here in these spaces I get to just be with these other families. And every time I do, I realized breathing is meant to be easy.

As we hit mid flight the airplane began to roar with excitement as the crew threw cotton snowballs in an all consuming, no one exempt snowball fight! Over head bins were opened as kids and parents alike crawled into  hight advantage and further throwing power! Candy cane shaped balloons were used as baseball bats and only when explaining to someone after the fact did I realize how much jumping and running we did mid-air on this flying vessel! As the wiggles grew and grew (with no signs of tiering out) from the children there was something announced to bring them all back to their seats. Hot Chocolate! Whipped cream, sprinkles, and smiles ear to ear. My daughter became the flight attendant as she walked the isles offering snacks and collecting the trash. She knew deep down there was no other flight like this. The next time we flew these things would be off limits. But there and then, she got to be fully integrated and consumed. 

Leaving that plane was hard, but my mind quickly kept pace as we got off on the tarmac and walked to the charter bus then drove to the hotel. Staring out the window of the bus I got pulled back in as my daughter made small talk with another kid. Slowly the mom started talking to me and I talked back. We covered the basics... where are you from, all the places we lived, how long it has been since our husband's died and so on. Effortlessly and non confusingly we got to know each other. I told her how nice it was that we got to talk without the bombshell question of "Why have you lived in so many states? Was your husband in the Military? Is he still in?" There is no greater gift I can think of than that. 

Shortly after those words came out of my mouth I looked out the front window and realized what I had missed. The police were escorting us. Stopping traffic, clearing intersections, so we could go through the red lights. In comparison to the entire trip it was a very small part but it sunk deep into me for the meaning behind it. A bus full of fallen military families being safely brought to our hotel. Just as our husband's would have insisted.

What the flight and the bus ride began to show me, what I truly think it meant was... we were all together experiencing life like rules don't apply. Passing through TSA, a chartered plane, playing mid-flight, pretending to be a flight attendant, getting off on the tarmac, police escorted to the hotel. But why? Because for all of us prior to boarding the plane, the rules didn't apply in a very real and devastating way. Our husbands were allowed to join the military. We were allowed to be wives and have children. We were allowed to send them off to war and return unharmed and untouched by PTSD. Even though I knew that's not how life worked, I still felt robbed, confused, and angry when I became one of the people who qualified for this free trip. When he died it felt like the rules of life didn't apply to me. I had done everything 'right.' So why did everything feel unbelievable when I became a widow and my children fatherless. The rules were reversed for us and this trip felt like a tiny whisper from America saying we love you.

Getting off the bus my children and I were greeted with hundreds of people cheering for our arrival. People we have never met, happy to see us. I have said it before and I'll write it again I feel deeply honored to be invited to a room where no one wants to be invited to. The tragedy of my life has brought me to a room of the most incredible people I have ever known. Where I have instant friends who know me. I think it's the closest I'll get on this earth to understanding what heaven will be like. Because when I'm not in those rooms there is a deep sense of not being fully known. It's not that I don't love my life, my family, my friends. I love the school, the church, and the city I choose. I have so much gratitude for my life. And yet it can also be true that every one of those places and around those people I feel and ache in my heart for the times and places I am around other widows. The title that devastates me, and at the same time when surrounded by people where we can "just be" where no story is compared, no love is measured, no questioned asked that I have to think before I speak if I'm about to traumatize the person in my response. We went to Disney World but that was merely the vessel to be around the people I am so fortunate to call friends and family. All thousands of them that I was with.

As the long awaited after hours at Animal Kingdom got closer I sat at a table for dinner. A huge convention center turned dining hall as we filled our plates buffet style. Tired in every sense of the word the person next to me asked if I needed coffee. I took half a second to say yes as my son buzzed something in my ear that I interpreted as "can I head to the unlimited desert bar now?" I remember saying yes and then heading to the smell of hope in a mug that coffee is with my new friend. When we got back I started doing mom math. Hm. He's been gone for 5 minutes. Where is he, there is no line at the dessert bar... The math continued with convincing myself this was a safe place. Maybe he went to the bathroom. But where was my son? As minutes went by I asked my new friend if she could see him. I then went to the staff and asked them to help me find him. 

Every part of me that knew I had to pull it together to find him, vanquished and absconded me rudely. They asked for a photo of him and a description of what he was wearing. All I could provide was streaming tears and silence. I held up my phone in panic and like it had answers but it did not. I had the answers and I could not provide them. What seemed like 10 minutes was actually maybe 2 as the sweetest boy I've ever met who was my new friend's son in all of his 10 years of life went and found  my son. I saw them from across the room walking him over. After informing the staff that I found him and talking to my son who told me "I asked if I could go to the activity table and you said yes!" He did do that but I was not paying attention to what he said. I took him back over to the table to finish his craft and a staff member played with my daughter while I hugged my son and apologized to him.

As I made my way back to the table to get our belongings I saw my now cold cup of coffee. I cried again just wanting to go back to the hotel room and sleep. But I did not want to take the experience away from my children of going to the park after it closed to the public. Searching for a way to muster up the emotional and physical energy to go, I looked down and noticed a note. "Please still come to Animal Kingdom. Here is my phone number, let's go together.' That friend that I just made left her phone number. I called her and met her in line for the bus. When I saw her she said "I'm glad you came. I didn't want you to feel overwhelmed and miss this." We spent the next few hours together as she graced me with being my friend when I was not able to be fully present.

So far I have mentioned a lot of ways that being around other people like me has been what I chase, what I am so grateful for, and how that brings me great comfort. However, so focused on this feeling, I learned a very important lesson straight from God through many people on that trip. Starting with the Airline Staff who volunteered, from the people at the hotel who planned and executed every detail of it. I knew this, I felt this when I walked in, but God had another adjustment to my view for me through people I have overlooked, People not like me. 

At before sunrise I went to the area where volunteers were to help you around the Disney World Parks. These are people who volunteer with other organizations, or heard about it in some way. But not all military affiliates, not all friends of families who've been touched by fallen heroes. But "regular" in only one sense of the word because everything about them has me convinced they are angels. 

As I stood at the place to get a volunteer, 3 came up to me and said "Lets go!" We exchanged names and walked to the bus. For the next two days I had 3 helpers who pushed the stroller, stood in line with my son for hours, helped me map out where to go to maximize my time. They had no agenda of what they wanted to do. They expressed many times that they were doing what they wanted to do already... which was just being with us. They didn't walk a life like mine. I didn't walk a life like theirs. And yet we felt like it was a family reunion. I walked around Disney World feeling supported, present with my children, enjoying the moment and I still can't believe it.... carefree. This wasn't because we were surrounded by shiny and sparkly things. It wasn't because we were in the place of magic. It was because the people we encountered from start to finish were. 

I could write out more things people said or did, I could try and convince you more. But that is not why I wrote this. I wrote it because I could not keep this to myself. There are people out there donating their time, money, and talents to glue back my heart and they sure did get it right. I can only say thank you and that feels like it barely scratches the surface. I believed them, and I'm so glad I opened my heart up to receive it.