“No, no!” I cried, tears streaming down my face.
It was just a few weeks after Forrest’s death when my youngest son, Stephen, announced his desire to enlist. I was still reeling in grief for one son. Stephen’s decision absolutely floored me.
I experienced actual physical pain during any discussion of him joining up, but to no avail. He enlisted and left at the end of August 2006 six weeks after Forrest’s death and just two days before we found out my father had terminal liver cancer.
Devastated by Forrest’s loss, Stephen was driven to be part of the same thing that his big brother was. While he and the twins were always at odds growing up, in adulthood Stephen felt that Forrest was the only brother who really reached out to him during some of his hard times.
Watching all the attention given in the weeks after Forrest’s death, Stephen, who had been rather lackadaisical about school, jobs, his life in general, suddenly saw something bigger than himself that he wanted to be part of. He saw that Forrest had achieved something honorable and worthy, and that others recognized it. I think he reevaluated his life and saw that he wanted to achieve the same.
Stephen had been offered a position in the Old Guard at Arlington National Cemetery, but turned it down to do his part in Korea for one year. Recently, he transferred to Fort Lewis and is now close to home.
How I cried when he tried to talk to me about enlisting. My pain was too raw from just losing Forrest, and to think my youngest, with whom I shared an incredibly close relationship, would defy me and leave me after being dealt such a blow, was unfathomable to me. It took me months and still takes effort, to accept his decision.
Lord, show me how to echo David in Psalm 13 and rejoice in your salvation even as I have sorrow in my heart.
“How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?… But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.” (Psalm 13:2, 5)