Franky, Part 2

Last fall, I wrote Franky: Part One. Franky, our golden retriever made friends with everyone he met and everyone loved him.

My senior year of high school we moved to 20 acres and a house we built in the country. Franky loved it and ran all over the land.

In college, I lived at home and each time someone came home, Franky would run to greet you; he was the best welcoming party ever. I hated writing papers and always had to go to the basement computer to write. I always had trouble getting started and I was nervous. Franky would generally come downstairs away from the rest of the family to help me get started. Hours in once I had a nice flow going, he would venture back upstairs. He was such a giver.

One night, we all watched a movie together and after everyone went back upstairs, but I had another dreaded paper to write. Franky must've sensed my stress and resumed his spot by the computer to help me get started.

The next day changed the rest of our lives forever. I went to work and school, where my mom called to say Franky was lying outside and wouldn't eat anything. He loved eating human food, so I suggested she offer him a piece of bread, which she had and he refused. I was shocked. After he stayed stuck in that one spot all day, my mom had my dad come home early from work to take Franky to the vet. After work, I joined them. They were doing doing tests. Before his little surgery we said bye and watched them cart him down the hall. He looked at us with those beautiful tigers eye-colored eyes. They did a little surgery and found that he was septic; his bowel was perforated. With his being septic, he would have to have it as an open wound. The dangers of him being septic were large, living with an open wound is dangerous and they suspected cancer. The odds of him living was 25% and there were dangers of him having complications. There was nothing else they could do for him. We wailed in that waiting room. He had seemed so fine before and now we were making the hardest decision of our lives. We always said we'd pay whatever to keep him alive, but keeping him alive wasn't an option anymore unless we left him with an open wound only to wait for the end with him in pain. We were devastated. Franky had spent over 10 years being the best member of our family. It was hard to reconcile that he'd be fine just the day before and had selflessly helped me with my paper just the night before. While Franky was our family dog, my mom spend 24 hours a day with him and they were beyond close. Though my dad and I hated to admit it, we knew the best option for our baby, was to put him down. Nowhere was there a scenario where he would live and it broke our hearts. We made mom make the call about what to do and decided there was no better option for him. We wailed and our vet cried with us.

My parents stayed to wait to take home his body and I went home. What I didn't realized was that I'd be arriving home where Franky wouldn't be there to great me. The grief was hard to put into words. I couldn't stand to be alone in my room, though Franky always stayed in my parent's room. I cried myself to sleep every night for at least a week. I awoke every day to my dad crying. Franky got up with my dad early every morning and now dad was alone. I used to complain about all the blonde/red hair on my clothes, but as time passed his said disappeared from our clothes and I would've given anything to have my furry puppy back.

Over 13 years have gone by since his passing and we still miss him dearly. He and I had a special bond having grown up together. Through him I learned about love, forgiveness and joy in the simple things. I learned that love is about the small things. We loved him and he loved us. For me, he'll always be the best dog ever. Miss you, Franky! <3

Monsoon in Manhattan

Late afternoon and evening Monday, May 4th, the weather here in Manhattan, KS got crazy. The downpour was intense and caused flooding unlike I'd ever seen in my life.
I left work about 5:30 planning to head to the gym. I ran through the rain and jumped over a rover of water that soaked my shoes. So, I decided to go home. On the main road heading home, I saw police lights up ahead. So, I took a shortcut to miss it. Once I met another main road, I saw all the standing water and all the tentative drivers. Here's what I experienced. Just past this, I saw the first stalled car, a muscle car, Dodge Charger. I turned back into the main road home and saw some several stalled cars and lots of water.

Here we see stalled vehicles, mainly muscle cars, and drivers of those cars standing on the median. I was overwhelemed with the amount of water and was unsure if my small Jetta would survive. As, I trekked on the road ahead seemed a daunting with all the water, so I thought I should try a side street, then decided that wouldn't be the best idea, so I kept going on. There were waves of water hitting my car and I was waiting for water to start to start seeping in my car. I kept praying that I could get home safely.

I live down from a roundabout and as I approached it reminded me of an abandoned carosel at an amusement park. Cars were stuck on it with many up on the curbs. The key part was that nothing was moving. So, I turned down a side street and planned to take a turn down a side street to arrive home, but I saw other cars who had tried that and failed. I kept driving and looking at side streets. I found one and turned down. I was so happy to finally get home!
This one of the scariest things I saw.

To check out the KSHB News website to see my photos on their webpage.

Experiences That Changed Me, Part 1

When American Sniper came out last fall, I wanted to see it, but wasn't sure I could handle it's intensity. I have lots of friends in the military, live in a military community, and worked in a job where I was involved in the local base (Fort Riley, KS) and traveled to military bases across the United States. Those experiences changed the way I see the world forever. I'll share a few of the experiences that most changed me.

One of the posts I traveled to was Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, TX. It is home to the 2nd largest military hospital in the U.S., San Antonio Military Medical Center formerly Brooke Army Medical Center (BAMC). I hadn't thought of what that would mean for my trip, but I sure did learn. Lots of companies were there for the career fair I was at representing my employer and among the masses of Soldiers attending were many Soldiers who were amputees missing one or two limbs or had disfiguring burns across their whole bodies. They were there shaking hands and looking for employment like everyone else. Seeing their injuries and children there with them tugged at my heart. They weren't at home wallowing in sorrow, like I knew I would be doing if I'd been in their shoes. They were resilient. I swelled with pride in the strength of our Soldiers and I grew more as a person that day as my gratitude for their sacrifice grew as well.

As a member of the community, my company was invited to attend all kinds of military ceremonies at Fort Riley: change of command, deployment, redeployment, casing of colors, and memorials to name a few. I attended dozens of ceremonies during my 5.5 years at that job. Of all the ceremonies I attended two types of ceremonies most changed me; redeployment and memorials.

I first attended a redeployment ceremony as a community member and observer. They often were at the craziest times like 4am, but I wanted to experience them. For me the experience was in a way indescribable. Entering the large, sterile gym anticipation was so thick in the air you could almost taste it, people were fidgety waiting for their loved ones to finally arrive after a long deployment and restless children cried, many of whom hadn't been born when their fathers had deployed. The wait for the Soldiers to finally arrived felt like forever. Though I didn't know a soul returning, I was filled with anticipation for them. The Soldiers file into formation, families frantically search the nearly identical rows of uniformed Soldiers for their loved ones. The commander speaks for a few minutes, which feels like hours to the restless crowd. Then he releases the Soldiers and the search begins. Fathers meet their babies for the first time, families laugh and cry, the experience and emotions are unforgettable.

Just two years ago, I attended another redeployment ceremony. This time, I knew someone coming back. One of my good friends was returning from a year in Afghanistan. Every parking lot within a 1/4 mile of the gym was packed along with all streets. Snow was on the ground. The gym was packed to the brim. I stood in a hoard of people near the entrance and couldn't see a thing. I again felt the anticipation and emotion of it all. Babies cried, people strained to see a glimpse of their loved one, and with the anticipation of it all I teared up. Once the Soldiers were dismissed, I worked through the crowd to try to find my friend and her parents. I made it just in time to see my friend's dad find her. The emotion on his face as he hugged her struck my heart.

The one ceremony to most effect me were the memorials. My coworker briefed me of some of the emotional parts of the ceremony, but no words could ever have properly prepared me. We stepped into a beautiful chapel on post and sat in a pew towards the back. Fellow Soldiers shared their memories of their departed friends. After that,things happened in an order I can't quite remember. A lone trumpet played the always emotional "Taps." Next was roll call, it was much more devastating then even I had been able to imagine. The First Sergeant begins roll call, calling the rank and last name of Soldiers in the company ex) "Sgt. Smith." Sgt. Smith answers back, "here, First Sergeant." Roll call continues with the First Sergeant calling out the the rank and last name of several Soldiers, they in turn answer back, "here First Sergeant." Then he comes to the deceased Soldier. He calls their rank and last name. The silence is deafening. All you want is for that Soldier to be able to answer back. The First Sergeant then continues calling the deceased Soldier's rank, first name, and last name. The silence continues on for what feels like forever as your heart breaks. A final time the First Sergeant calls out the rank, first name, middle name, and last name of the the deceased Soldier into silence that makes me cry to even think about it. Into the silence, outside the chapel you hear the 21-gun salute. It feels like it comes out of nowhere and literally jolts you. The room is full of unbearable sorrow. The following video captures in a small way what the memorial was like. I will say, it's not for the faint of heart and brought back all the emotions I felt that day over 8 years ago. I hope even in a small way that it helps you and I realize the depth of sacrifice of our outstanding military. I feel that every American should attend a military memorial to better understand the sacrifice and the gift of our freedom, which is far from free.

Seeing American Sniper brought back some of my memories back. I thought the movie would feature lots of fight scenes, but it really focused on Chris Kyles' relationships with his family and friends. His skill as a sniper was unbelievable and saved so many lives. In the end, it reminded me of the strength and sacrifice of our military. In addition, it made me proud to be an American. The movie ended so sadly, but it made me thankful for people like Chris Kyle and it brought the important issue of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) back into people's minds. It's real and it's crippling even for the strongest of people. I've had friends who've battled it. We definitely need to address the hard issues and help our Soldiers heal. God bless America!