Photo By 1st Lt. Daphney Black | Sgt. Micah Merrill, Mass Communications NCO, 14th Public Affairs Detachment, 4th...... read more read more
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In the early morning hours with snow falling, children playing gleefully on the basketball court, and mothers rocking their infants, Soldiers from the 4th Infantry Division band serenade the families with jazz and rock tunes. It is a scene very familiar in the military community —-homecoming.
In a fog, more than 300 Soldiers entered the special events center on Fort Carson.
One salute is all that stood in the way of the anxious tears and awaiting hugs from family members amid the sea of signs. They were home now, just in time to celebrate Thanksgiving with their families.
Homecomings are more than an event, they are a process.
The auditorium is crowded beyond all recognition, but each person is an island apart, an ocean of emotions. On the surface, all appears happy and joyful, but the passive onlooker is casually unaware of what lies beneath the facade.
I identified with the swirling emotions more than the consummate professional inside me cared to admit.
As Fort Carson families were reuniting, mine was scrambling.
Unable to keep food or liquids down, and with jaundice rising, my mother was admitted to a medical center in Lakeland, Florida. As I finished photographing the homecoming ceremony, I received the news.
While cut-out and creative letters made welcome-home signs, six letters brought a very different emotion.
C-a-n-c-e-r.
“Stronger than cancer” they say.
I knew my mom was strong. After all, she’s the daughter of a veteran — one who has four grandsons serving in the military. But her progress wasn’t looking good. And her prospective surgery went from a minimally invasive, laparoscopic procedure to an intense, full-blown surgery.
I prepared to go to Florida.
As I walked by the Division public affairs office I wished them a “Happy Thanksgiving” and told them I would not be able to be at the next few homecomings, but my unit had them covered. That night I walked into the special events center, and my work family had come too....
“I lost my mom five years ago,” said 1st Lt. Angela DiMattia, the family readiness liaison with 2nd Infantry Brigade Combat Team, 4th Infantry Division. “Let me know if I can help in any way.”
“Tell your mom I’ll be thinking of her,” said a Fort Carson employee and a cancer survivor. “She’s got a tough road ahead.”
Little did I know just how prophetic this would be.
As I began the road trip to Florida, my five siblings began arriving with their families. A few hours later, she would be in surgery. The surgery was long. It wasn’t like wiping down the door of a refrigerator. No, this was spring cleaning, and everything would get pulled out and reorganized. And as patiently as possible, my family awaited her outcome.
But as my mom was undergoing surgery, news arrived as sharp as a surgeon’s knife. My mother’s father had unexpectedly passed away. He had been at Fort Benning to put on my infantry blue cord. He was my hero. He was gone, and my mom didn’t even know.
Finally! Eleven hours later, my mom came out of surgery. Life rarely goes by as smoothly as we would hope. Pulling into a hotel as I neared Florida, I tried to sleep a few hours, but I was awakened to a phone call from my sister...”Mom’s bleeding internally. She’s lost over six units of blood. They’re rushing her back into surgery.”
“We need a miracle”— I said in a hurried text to my NCOIC. I knew there wouldn’t be any more sleep, so I stepped into the shower and turned the water as hot as it would go. Tears hotter than the shower streamed down my face like molten lava. But as doctors raced against the clock, and the minutes ticked closer to Thanksgiving, my mom’s outlook was appearing less hopeful. I gained a new appreciation for the Army family — a term that many service members have used casually. My unit of eight people had swung into action, and there was no doubt I had support even further beyond them. From supportive texts and phone calls, extending leave, picking up coverage assignments, and so much more.
True, this was a different kind of battle.
But these are the moments when you know your Army family really is much more than a uniform or a creed. It’s a loyal commitment. A brotherhood.
The surgical ICU is not where most of us envision spending a holiday, but I was thankful simply to have my mom share it with us.
As I sat with her thru the night, and I watched the sun rise through her hospital window, I was reminded of the 4th Infantry Division song we sing each morning after the flag is raised. “Steadfast and Loyal. We’re fit to fight...”
Before leaving my mom to return to Fort Carson, I gave her the patch I’ve worn as a reminder to be unwavering as she continued her battle and encouragement to know that there are people who don’t even know her who support her.
As I gear up for another homecoming, my mind races through so many experiences. Regardless of our personal journey, it is up to each of us to support each other and to be — America’s Best.
| Date Taken: | 03.09.2019 |
| Date Posted: | 03.11.2019 14:07 |
| Story ID: | 313644 |
| Location: | FORT CARSON, CO, US |
| Hometown: | COLORADO SPRINGS, CO, US |
| Hometown: | ENTERPRISE, AL, US |
| Hometown: | GREENVILLE, SC, US |
| Web Views: | 147 |
| Downloads: | 1 |
This work, More than a Motto: Ready, by SSG Micah Merrill, identified by DVIDS, must comply with the restrictions shown on https://www.dvidshub.net/about/copyright.
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