Dear John, It's Year 4 . . .Gold Stars and the DoD

Dear John,

Year 4. November 4. I miss you. That part doesn't change with days or months or years.  It's still a horrific hole in my heart.  I want to preface this post by saying these are my thoughts, what's been on my mind.  I'm not looking to argue or debate, I'm just sharing how I feel . . .

The thoughts in my head have finally gotten to the place where they are keeping me up at night, and I miss sleeping. If I've been good at anything, it's sleeping. So this morning, I'm up before the sun to get these words out of my head, at least for a while. I always go back and read the "anniversary" posts so I remember what those years looked like.

Year One:  Devastation.  Court. Utter sadness and disbelief.  Trying to understand and learn about addiction - Substance Use Disorder.  I shared your story hoping to educate others.  Well, the war on opioids is still raging, and it's worse. CoVid had not helped. The isolation has not helped. The drugs have gotten stronger and more plentiful, and what was a shock to us - the Fentanyl, is now killing people at alarming rates.  Did you know that 136 people die every day from an opioid overdose? That’s one person every 10.58 minutes. (stat from Missy Hume on FB).

Year Two:  Is a lonely blur. Same as year one.  I spent a lot of time writing and talking to other loss moms online. Crying. I went to mental health training and decided I may be depressed as well. Big surprise there. I learned that the support of year one, while a beautiful thing, wasn't going to carry forward and I had to learn how to live with my loss.

Year Three: A continuation of years one and two, lonely, still in shock, but learning how to live with deep sadness.  The best thing in year one was Grandbaby 1, and in year three came Grandbaby 2. Year three also introduced us to Tribute to the Troops,  with a beautiful memorial to your life and service to our country. This organization adopted us into their "Framily".  This tribute also introduced me to several Gold Star Families, and Tribute treats us as if we are one as well.  But no one wants to be a Gold Star Family, any more than they want to be in the club called the bereaved.

Year Four:  Is cancer.  Chemo, surgeries, immunotherapy, echos, biopsies, MRI's, lots of fatigue and doctors . . .very time-consuming. So much that my brain is full. I needed rest. I didn't write much, I didn't have the energy. Brain fog in grief is a tremendous problem, add to it the chemo fog and the Covid fog - and some days I can't string together a sentence. Let alone write. But these thoughts keep visiting me, and it's time to get them off my chest. 

But before I jump into that here is another statistic I'd like to share with you:

I'm reposting from Missy Hume on FB: Did you know that the BRCA gene for breast cancer (I tested positive for BRACA1) has a 5-10% genetic predisposition rate? And people undergo testing and life-changing surgeries to avoid it. 

Addiction’s genetic predisposition is over 50%.
O V E R 5 0 %. . . Let that sink in. Do you still think addiction is a moral problem?

OK, onto what's been keeping me up at night.  Let me preface this by saying that the Gold Star Mothers is a wonderful organization that I thank God for. They support each other in a way that I can only imagine. 

You see, I know how it feels to connect with another loss mom, now add that to a loss mom who lost their child to an accidental overdose, but add to that the aspect of military service and it's a level of understanding that reaches your heart in a place that you desperately need. Long for. 

To talk to someone who understands the distance in miles, the fight of not being able to advocate for your son or daughter, the thought that they are being cared for by the military, and what a shock the actual reality and details bring. To speak to someone else who has been down the VA road, with its setbacks and roadblocks, and who understands the military shoving your son's paperwork off their desk and into the garbage can because frankly, they don't want to deal with an appointment in another city.  There is also an understanding and common denominator of parents with a child in the military.  The pride of service, the love of country, the common bonds of boot camp, waiting for calls, letters, and seeing the camaraderie of the soldiers - now brothers.  

While I believe the Gold Star Mothers are a fantastic organization - it's the combination of the GSM and the DoD (Department of Defense) that I'm having trouble understanding. You see, I've been told that I'm part of the Gold Star Mothers (GSM) family regardless of how John died. Or when John died.  In fact, I recently filled out the paperwork and they graciously added me to their ranks. (But not his name to their National Registry).  Yes, I had to ask. It's not automatic for me, because John wasn't "active military" when he died, and there are events and benefits that I'll never be able to join in, and this is where it gets confusing.  I got a pin, but not THAT pin.  Let me see if I can explain why the differences in acceptance are keeping me up.

From the Gold Star Mothers: "The DOD makes distinctions in determining which of the Gold Star Pins are awarded based on the manner and place of death but we do not. All served and all undertook the associated risks." So the GSM is handing out one pin and the DoD is handing out another.  

Clarifications

The term Gold Star Mother refers to any mother who has lost a child in the service of our country.

An American Gold Star Mother is a Gold Star Mother who has joined the American Gold Star Mothers, Inc organization (AGSM).

AGSM is a private organization and can set its own membership rules. Our qualifications for membership have changed over the years. There is currently no requirement that your service member was killed in action or in a particular theater of operation to be a member.

Our Constitution and By-Laws state:
American Gold Star Mothers, Inc. is an organization of mothers whose sons and daughters served and died while on active duty in the Armed Forces of the United States of America, or died as a result of such service, or were missing in action.

The DoD makes distinctions in determining which of the Gold Star Pins are awarded based on the manner and place of death but we do not. All served and all undertook the associated risks.

If your person is active - not those years of "standby" that are included in your service - but on active duty, even if you're home on leave, you are still active. Now, if a soldier comes home from active service on leave and dies in a car accident, takes their life, gets swept away in a flood, or overdoses, you can be considered by the DoD to be a GSM.  But what about the ones who died as a result of such service?  As stated?  Where is the Gold Star for those families?  This is what bothers me.  We can be included and be called GSM's, but technically, we are not.  In fact, when I received my "membership card", I found my local group on Facebook and here is what it says in their "about":

Again, it's active soldiers.  So I guess there won't be any inclusion here either?  At least not for the ones who came home from active service and died as a result of PTSD, Addiction, or an injury sustained while active.  And I get it - they have a group for themselves, and I do not begrudge them that.  I just wish we had a group for the others.  I wish I had an acknowledgment from the Army/Military that John's death was a result of an injury he sustained while actively serving.  If you are going to offer the "as a result of", then tell me how it works.  

It costs the government a lot of money when a soldier dies, so they aren't willing to offer that status to everyone. It is up to their discretion. That being said, even the DoD says: American Gold Star Mothers, Inc. is an organization of mothers whose sons and daughters served and died while on active duty in the Armed Forces of the United States of America, or died as a result of such service, or were missing in action.  Do I believe John died as a result of his service?  You bet I do. 

In 2019, Veteran groups sought clarity for "Gold Star" families in Massachusetts:

A proposal filed by Sen. Sal DiDomenico, D-Everett, and Rep. John Velis, D-Westfield, would define a Gold Star family member as a “parent” or “spouse” of someone in the armed forces “whose death occurred as a result of an injury sustained, illness or disease contracted, not due to gross negligence or misconduct of the member, during active service.”   (Substance Use Disorder is a disease folks).

 
See the full article here: https://www.salemnews.com/news/local_news/veteran-groups-seek-clarity-for-gold-star-families/article_65d99cd9-d407-5edd-998e-e8f66820e6c9.html

Friends, I'm not gunning for the "benefits".  I understand that the DoD doesn't want to hand out thousands of dollars to everyone. I don't need my license plate paid for, but I sure do feel like I should be able to sign up for one if I want.  What I'm looking for here is INCLUSION.

  1. The action or state of including or of being included within a group or structure. 

  2. A person or thing that is included within a larger group or structure.

You see, we are kind of included, but we really aren't. We aren't recognized by the DoD as Gold Star Families. In fact, I never heard from the Army after John's loss. And, John's death in my eyes was a direct result of his military service. He was injured, was supposed to be taken to Anchorage for a specialist appointment, but was refused by whomever his commanding officer was. (He told us about the appointment and he kept the documents saying he had an appointment.) I also received this from a medic that knew him:

Tracy: "I had just arrived as a new medic, and through another medic ended up friends with John. After his injury, I never directly dealt with him in appointments as it was preferable a Male medic do that due to the nature, but I know that he never got his specialist appointment in Anchorage because command deemed it was more important that he do irrelevant field training over and over again. As I grew as a medic over the years, and the same things happened to countless soldiers I found purpose in fighting for soldiers to have their health put over the mission, especially when that meant putting someone way up in rank in their damn place. Sadly my time at the healm was too late to fight for John, but seeing it as a baby medic did touch me."

So, John served the last 16 months of his service while in chronic pain. He was honorably discharged and even awarded an Army Achievement Medal. He was assigned jobs above his pay grade and he was proud to serve. He had a groin injury, two, in fact, the first one sustained while jumping down from the Stryker and getting his strap caught and landing on his groin, his text to me stated it looked like hamburger, and the second, during an Army club hockey game where he experienced a chronic injury.

While on active duty in Alaska, John was given copious amounts of opioids. Enough to cause addiction for him and a few friends.  (According to addiction statistics).  When he got home to us, he was suffering from SUD, and it took us a while to figure it out.  He sought out opioids, switched to heroin, and then fentanyl.  We tried everything we knew to do, and even with what I know now, I'm not sure we could have changed it, but I'd give everything to try. 

John died of an accidental fentanyl overdose. We found him at 6:30 a.m. on November 4th, 2017,  Dead in his childhood bedroom.  Part of me died that day.  It seems crazy to think that if John would have overdosed while he was still in Alaska, we would most likely be considered a Gold Star Family by the DoD. If John wouldn't have swerved to miss that moose in Alaska and died in a car accident, we would be considered a Gold Star Family by the DoD. If John's group would have been called up and he died in action, we would be considered a Gold Star Family by the DoD.

But instead, we paid for a surgery (Spermatic Cord Denervation) at the U of MN given to hockey players to reduce chronic pain. We dealt with his SUD on a daily basis, we spent a year trying to get him into the VA - even with EMERGENCY stamped on his folder. By the time he had a psych eval she labeled him with "severe depression and anxiety". He was given a 70% disability according to his frame of mind, and that didn't even touch the pain he lived with. We hadn't gotten that far yet with the VA.  At one point in his active service, he was put in charge of a suicidal soldier. He was supposed to prevent him from attempting another suicide. I wonder who thought that was a good idea?  I believe he took that "job" as seriously as the others, even calling me and discussing with me why this soldiers family had "disowned" him, and asked for information about their faith and beliefs so he could understand it better and talk to the young man, and to my knowledge, that soldier is alive and well.

Honestly, DoD, how about a Black and Blue Star Mother? Because so many of us have been through hell after the service of our soldiers for our country. You can keep your money and your procession, and your benefits,  if we embarrass you, but please, at least acknowledge your part in their death. You know, we could really use the support. 

Our sons and daughters signed up to serve, to give all ... just like the rest, and they ended up taking their lives, dying from overdoses and addictions, dealing with PTSD or some disease from being exposed to chemical warfare. Almost all with back pain and hearing loss.  

My son died as a result of his injury . . . like so many others, but there was no military fanfare, no lapel pin, no soldier showing up at our door, no call from the DoD telling of us all the benefits we were entitled to. In fact, we had to pay the American Legion to come out and play taps and do the gun salute. (Thank you, you blessed us tremendously). They sent along two soldiers to fold his flag as well. The VA knew he died, they saw it on WCCO - they documented it in his medical file. They just didn't reach out or acknowledge it to us.  FYI:  John's medical file was huge.  

Even as the GSM graciously let me join their ranks, I am still not INCLUDED. The first two emails I received from the GSM were activities for "the GSM's whose soldiers died in ACTIVE service". What if we were all included? Or had our own designation? Were invited to the retreats or the get-togethers?  I don't want to step on anyone's toes, I just want to let you know that we are not okay. So many soldiers die as a result of their service, and yet, there is no place for us and our loss. Unless I am missing something??  Hey, we are used to being beat up, used to being black and blue, we'll pay for our plates, our funerals, our therapy, our salutes, just acknowledge them - acknowledge their service and the complications of said service. 

If I want to get a Gold Star license plate, which some days I sort of do, as John was a patriot in the highest sense, I have to get a Certificate of Eligibility. What is that? I have no idea. What I do know is I will never get one of the three documents required by the state and given out by the DoD. I'll have to find my eligibility on my own. In fact, I got a phone number to call - and I haven't had the courage to do so. You see, talking about John and his military service - that does me in. Maybe someone else would like to call Larry Herke, Office of Commissioner Veterans Affairs, at 651-757-1555 and see if he would "recommend" me for a certificate of eligibility so I could sport a Gold Star plate? You can tell him I'll even pay for it. (FYI:  When you buy a "Support our Troops" plate it funds the Gold Star plates - what a great cause).  The VA chat line did suggest I just go ahead and get one of those - and I have in the past, but if they aren't going to give me a black and blue one, then I think maybe I'd like a gold one.  

I think it is interesting that duty in Alaska does entitle the soldiers to "overseas pay".  After all, it's 3250 miles from home for us.   I didn't get any forms when John died.  I did talk to our local VA liaison and applied for his bronze plaque.  That was kind.  But again, all this has been on our own.  No one showed up and told us what we were entitled to, probably because it isn't much, and as far as I've gathered, the Army doesn't care about John, but John sure cared about the Army and everyone enlisted with him.  

I think Minnesota should set a standard for the rest of us - even if it is "just a license plate".  Maybe our black and blue plates could support the Gold ones as well?  Or raise money for SUD, PTSD, etc??

Please, do me a solid and read this article. https://coffeeordie.com/honorable-disservice-gold-star/

It explains it from both sides and way better than I can. And no, my pin is not gold and purple. I am the "black sheep" as well. The one who feels like I don't deserve to stand in the ranks and is quick to point out that I am NOT a Gold Star Mother, at least not according to the government, the government that my son was willing to give his life for.  Occasionally I am asked if I am attending this function or that function, and like a child on the playground, I have to say "I wasn't invited".  We are the ones left standing, who no one chose.

It describes the controversy and the battle, the battle on domestic soil for the ones the DoD does not "qualify", and to quote the article, to the ones who "feel like they never existed". To the mother who "during the first holiday season after the loss of her son, she was invited to a ball where she was to be honored alongside other Gold Star mothers. At the last minute, however, someone realized their “mistake” and her name was dropped from the honor roll. She sat alone at her table and cried."

Jeez, I hope this "therapy" is going to help my mind rest and let me sleep because this is hard to pen. I have lots of Gold Star friends and the last thing I want to do is offend them.  They deserve to be honored and held in great esteem.  I honor your soldiers' service and I thank you for your sacrifice. I just want the black and blues to have a designation, to be seen. I'm not a competitor, but a voice for the "died as a result of their service."

My friend Sue always says what is at the root of it?  And I think for me, it would be acknowledgment.   Maybe sending someone to say the Army was sorry.  That they should have done what the doctor ordered and brought him to the specialist ASAP.  That they shouldn't have introduced so many opioids to someone who was alone in his suffering and in terrible pain with no one to advocate for him or watch over him.  That he shouldn't have been assigned watch duty over another young man who was suicidal.  That the soldier in this case was more important than the mission.  I think at the root of it is the fact that John is my son, and he mattered.  

John would have preferred to have died in combat, of that I can assure you.  He wanted desperately to go and serve in the Middle East.  He was prepared to die as a soldier in service to his country.  He was not prepared to come home an addict in chronic pain with literally no support from his country.  To live with the self-loathing that accompanies addiction.  Who wouldn't prefer to die a hero?  Rather than from SUD? 

But the Army didn't get to see him writhing on the floor in pain like we did.  Or puking his guts out while trying to detox.  No, they didn't get to see the sadness when he wondered if he could ever father children, or if his parts would work correctly. They also didn't get to see all the messages from all the people whose lives he touched.  Maybe if they had, they would have thought he was worthy of a trip to Anchorage.  Maybe he could have lived his dream then, continued with his service.  Maybe he would have died worthy of a name on the Gold Star Registry.  Worthy of a lapel pin or a license plate. 

But, John didn't feel worthy.  The injury caused him to go down a very dark road.  A terrible path.  He didn't want to let us in to that pain, that embarrassment, that hatred of where he was and the bondage he was in. John told me not to suggest he ever go forward or stand to be recognized.  He said don't put my picture in the paper for serving, or anything else.  I don't deserve it.  Well, he is gone now, and I think he deserves it.  Because while he may not be a hero to the GSM or the DoD, he will always be a hero in my eyes.

Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart if you've gotten to the end of this. This is my heart, my black and blue heart, bruised and battered, on full display. It's hard. I am not okay and neither are the rest of the bereaved. We appreciate you hanging with us, for seeing and hearing us. This time of year is especially hard on us.  This day, well, staying in bed until it's over is always on my mind.  Thank you to those of you who help us get through it.  Who remember.  Who say his name.  

God Bless you - especially those of you who have or are serving. Heroes, every one. If you are struggling, please reach out.  🇺🇸 🖤💙

Let me leave you with a funny. When I got the gold star pin from the GSM, I put it on the bag I was gifted that was made from John's ACU's. I placed it right next to the Tribute pin. Later that day, it came unpinned and I almost lost it. When I got home, I was wracking my brain trying to think of where I might have another back for that pin, and it dawned on me that John had lots of pins.

I went into his room and found his U.S. pins. I grabbed a pin and an extra back and as I was exiting his room I said out loud, "Yes John, I'm sure I'm breaking some military rule by sporting your pin on my bag, but you aren't here to stop me, are you?" And when I got to the kitchen, I poked myself, hard, with that pin, like I'm bleeding hard!  And I heard him laughing in my mind. Yes, once again, you got the last laugh. But I did it anyway.