To My Alex
Many of you are aware that, earlier this year, I found out the devastating news of a dear friend's death. A Marine, and a survivor of three tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan, he died at home on December 6, 2015 of a heart attack at the young age of 31. In recent months, I have shared my journey of grief on this blog and tried to give a glimpse into the amazing life of my friend, Ssgt. Alex Ramon. Shortly after hearing the news of his death, I began to find some therapy in writing letters to him that conveyed all the feelings I wished I could tell him now that he is gone. Today, on the fourth anniversary of his passing, I share one of those letters with you all...
Alex,
Alex,
My sweet friend. Today marks four years since you received your final roll call and left this earth for your eternal rest. I think of all the countless texts and emails I typed to you, and this feels so strange to think you won't read these words. Knowing you, what I'm about to say would probably embarrass you anyway and you wouldn't want to read them in the first place. But suffice it to say, you're missed more than you will ever know. Life hasn't been the same without you, although we've all done our best to move forward. Just with a giant hole in our lives now that you once occupied.
This year would've marked a decade since we first met. I recall that day like it was yesterday. I never thought I'd pass this anniversary of that first conversation without you. From the very beginning, there was just a quiet, compelling quality about you. People gravitated toward you because they knew you were the consummate servant-leader. Always humble, you never shared the full extent of what you did, who you met, or where you were because you didn't want to ever brag. There's so much I'm still learning about you, even though you're gone.
You truly were the finest Marine I've ever met. No knock on all the other amazing ones I've met over the years, but you lived out the values of the Corps unlike any I'd ever seen, and you did so to the fullest until the day you died. I find myself still overcome with pride at all you accomplished during your service but also just how much you sacrificed for the country and those you loved. The fact that the Corps continued to give you rare opportunities and assignments proves just how extraordinary of a person you really were. I always felt when I talked to you that I was in the company of quiet greatness, but you always downplayed the honorable moments of your career and preferred to just be considered a Marine who did his job. For example, you never told me you'd gone to the White House to hang with the President! A photo your dad sent me recently was the first time I heard about this. I had to smile through tears - you're still surprising me all this time later.
Your Marine brothers were your world. Your fallen ones, your inspiration. You talked about these brave men like they were still alive and, to a certain extent, they were - in your memories and in your heart. Nothing made you happier than talking about them and telling their stories. They were the real heroes in your mind. Years after saying an untimely goodbye to those guys, you could still recall the times you'd all shared together, and you'd promise yourself that, as long as you were alive, their memories would never be forgotten. Somehow along the way, you felt as though those memories found a home in our friendship. Thank you for trusting me to appreciate the legacy of those brave souls. I can't help but feel as though you've unknowingly passed a mantel of sorts on to me - that perhaps why you told me all that you did was because you knew somebody had to preserve those stories for posterity. I'm honored that I'm now a keeper of those memories. I promise that I will treasure them and honor them for the rest of my life.
Our phone conversations were so lengthy and epic, weren't they?! We truly felt when we hung up the phone as if we'd solved all of the world's (and each other's) problems. Somehow, we just had an understanding between us that wasn't always explained or articulated but was simply felt with the heart. It's truly remarkable that two strangers could become so close and not meet in person (or even know what each other looked like) for six years. We both felt that such a connection could've only been planned by God. I still chuckle when I think of the time we both laughed ourselves silly trading Marine jokes during one of our calls. I honestly thought I was going to get sick from laughing so hard. Then there was the time you quizzed me on my knowledge of Marine Corps history. You said I didn't do "too badly for a civilian." Your sense of humor, though sometimes surpressed by the seriousness of the inward battles you faced so constantly, was always so fun and uniquely you. I always loved seeing you flash that winning smile of yours. It's probably the one thing I miss the most about you. I find myself wishing often I could just call you up and say hey. Your number is still in my phone. Always will be.
Since I received the news of your death, I've spent the last few months reflecting often on the many life-lessons I learned from you in the short few years we were friends. It's impossible to fully put into words just how impactful you were on my life and how much of what you taught me I feel like I carry with me to this day. Among the countless things I learned from you, a few stand out to me...
You taught me how to love with a busted heart. You had lost so much in your young life. I mean really...what normal person has to attend a funeral for 48 Marines, several of whom were your best friends? What normal person has had to bury so many before they've even turned 30-years-old? But that was your "normal." Friendship was your price that you laid on the altar of sacrifice for the sake of freedom. Sadly, there were some who never returned the love you gave so willingly. But this never stopped you from generously giving your one heart away to others, even in the midst of painful loss of your own. Watching how you continued to love others when you'd lost so much inspired me to begin making peace with my own losses and to never stop reaching out, even if it hurts. I've tried to honor you in this way as I've dealt with losing you because I know that you'd tell me to go bless others in the same spirit.
You also showed me the power of choice. When so many of your veteran brothers failed to make peace with their post-war reality, you tried your best to get close to the pain and adjust to a new normal. You certainly had your moments when the darkness closed in. I was there for a lot of them. But you knew that the part of you that had died on the battlefields of sacrifice, the part of you that was changed forever by what you saw and did, you knew that part still had the capacity to love and to live. Your wounds, internal and external, were never an excuse to you. You never once played the victim card about your circumstances. You proved that one can choose their attitude and their way forward. As you told me once over the phone, "you're only wounded if you choose to be wounded." I took this as a challenge in my own life to accept the battle scars of my soul and learn to choose a better way - a way that led through the darkness but would one day lead toward the light.
You taught me how to love with a busted heart. You had lost so much in your young life. I mean really...what normal person has to attend a funeral for 48 Marines, several of whom were your best friends? What normal person has had to bury so many before they've even turned 30-years-old? But that was your "normal." Friendship was your price that you laid on the altar of sacrifice for the sake of freedom. Sadly, there were some who never returned the love you gave so willingly. But this never stopped you from generously giving your one heart away to others, even in the midst of painful loss of your own. Watching how you continued to love others when you'd lost so much inspired me to begin making peace with my own losses and to never stop reaching out, even if it hurts. I've tried to honor you in this way as I've dealt with losing you because I know that you'd tell me to go bless others in the same spirit.
You also showed me the power of choice. When so many of your veteran brothers failed to make peace with their post-war reality, you tried your best to get close to the pain and adjust to a new normal. You certainly had your moments when the darkness closed in. I was there for a lot of them. But you knew that the part of you that had died on the battlefields of sacrifice, the part of you that was changed forever by what you saw and did, you knew that part still had the capacity to love and to live. Your wounds, internal and external, were never an excuse to you. You never once played the victim card about your circumstances. You proved that one can choose their attitude and their way forward. As you told me once over the phone, "you're only wounded if you choose to be wounded." I took this as a challenge in my own life to accept the battle scars of my soul and learn to choose a better way - a way that led through the darkness but would one day lead toward the light.
You demonstrated for me the foundation upon which true friendships are built. Loyalty, trust, and commitment were all huge to you and you poured those things into your relationships with those you cared about and expected the same from them. You showed me that love is often messy and requires us to get in the trenches with others in order to walk through their suffering with them. You took the Marines' challenge to "never leave a fallen comrade" into all areas of your life and you never left the side of those you had pledged your loyalty to, even in some cases when they left you. You realized that real love, real trust is all forged in the fire of hardship and that's its easier to stick with people you've been through the worst with than it is to stick with those who only know friendship in times of prosperity. And you gave me glimpses of what that looks like through the stories you told of your wartime experiences as well as the way you never failed to show your care for me. If I can love others in half the way you did, I'll count my life a success.
Even in your death, I'm still amazed at the trail of influence you left behind you. Every person I've talked with who knew you has said that you were unlike anybody they'd ever met before. You truly were larger than life to so many. You were the sergeant who could inspire and motivate others to go beyond their limitations and achieve great things. You were the first one to the scene of an emergency and the last one to leave. You stayed by the side of people long after they thought you could move on. I recall some of your fellow employees at the National Naval Medical Center at Bethesda saying that you continued to call and check up once a week on "your patients" after you'd already left your assignment there. You truly cared for those under your leadership in ways that probably God only knows. From the former Marine Corps commandant I met who recognized your name and highly praised your service to the guys who fought in the streets of the Middle East with you and endured the worst - they all agree that you were a great credit to the Marine Corps and to our country right to the very end.
Although this letter is quite long, I feel I've only scratched the surface of who you were and why you were, and still are, so important to me. Perhaps beyond all these things I could say about you, there's only one thing left to say: thank you. Thank you for welcoming me into your life and allowing your struggles as well as your victories to find a safe space in my heart. Thank you for letting me to do life with you for six wonderful years. I miss having you call up on your long road trips and just chat as if the clock didn't exist. Thank you for having me be a part of your journey and for teaching me so much about life. To say that I'm forever grateful would be an understatement. But I truly am. I'll forever be proud of the person you were and the things you accomplished. Your faithful friendship and your kindness will remain with me always.
I miss you everyday, friend. You meant the world to me, and I wish more than anything that more people could've gotten the chance to know you. But maybe in your death you'll touch even more lives than you did in your life...and that was already a lot. Maybe because it's up to people like me to be the caretakers of your legacy, you'll be more talked about and known than if you were still with us. And perhaps God knows that's better somehow.
Just because you're gone doesn't mean that you still aren't present with me in some way - through the memories I have and the words of insight and wisdom you left with me. And your stories. So, so many stories. Everyday I look at the framed picture I still have of you and determine to live my own life with meaning and purpose. To serve without thought of reward. To love fiercely. To choose brave. While I'll never have the heart of a warrior like yourself, I still determine to keep facing life in all it's challenges with an attitude of faith.
You're in my heart today and always. I love you, friend.
Always and forever,
Katherine
Even in your death, I'm still amazed at the trail of influence you left behind you. Every person I've talked with who knew you has said that you were unlike anybody they'd ever met before. You truly were larger than life to so many. You were the sergeant who could inspire and motivate others to go beyond their limitations and achieve great things. You were the first one to the scene of an emergency and the last one to leave. You stayed by the side of people long after they thought you could move on. I recall some of your fellow employees at the National Naval Medical Center at Bethesda saying that you continued to call and check up once a week on "your patients" after you'd already left your assignment there. You truly cared for those under your leadership in ways that probably God only knows. From the former Marine Corps commandant I met who recognized your name and highly praised your service to the guys who fought in the streets of the Middle East with you and endured the worst - they all agree that you were a great credit to the Marine Corps and to our country right to the very end.
Although this letter is quite long, I feel I've only scratched the surface of who you were and why you were, and still are, so important to me. Perhaps beyond all these things I could say about you, there's only one thing left to say: thank you. Thank you for welcoming me into your life and allowing your struggles as well as your victories to find a safe space in my heart. Thank you for letting me to do life with you for six wonderful years. I miss having you call up on your long road trips and just chat as if the clock didn't exist. Thank you for having me be a part of your journey and for teaching me so much about life. To say that I'm forever grateful would be an understatement. But I truly am. I'll forever be proud of the person you were and the things you accomplished. Your faithful friendship and your kindness will remain with me always.
I miss you everyday, friend. You meant the world to me, and I wish more than anything that more people could've gotten the chance to know you. But maybe in your death you'll touch even more lives than you did in your life...and that was already a lot. Maybe because it's up to people like me to be the caretakers of your legacy, you'll be more talked about and known than if you were still with us. And perhaps God knows that's better somehow.
Just because you're gone doesn't mean that you still aren't present with me in some way - through the memories I have and the words of insight and wisdom you left with me. And your stories. So, so many stories. Everyday I look at the framed picture I still have of you and determine to live my own life with meaning and purpose. To serve without thought of reward. To love fiercely. To choose brave. While I'll never have the heart of a warrior like yourself, I still determine to keep facing life in all it's challenges with an attitude of faith.
You're in my heart today and always. I love you, friend.
Always and forever,
Katherine
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