108 months. 108 months without hearing your voice. 108 months without being able to hug you or kiss your forehead. 108 months of not feeling you muscle-block me in passing.
I have a book to write-someday. But my mind is chaos. The carousel of memories spins and spins, and sometimes it stops—just long enough to drop me back into a moment, a feeling, a flash of you. Then it’s gone, swallowed by tears. By grief. By the kind of grief that is so deep it drags me under.
I cannot explain the depth. It’s darkness. It’s suffocation. My reach out just barely breaking through. And yet-somehow-something grabs my hand, pulls me back, reminds me to breathe.
It’s a repetitive thing, this rhythm of life. A cycle of ache and reprieve. Bittersweet suffering. The suffering that proves the love I have for you. It describes what cannot be broken, even by death. If I did not suffer, it would mean that I did not love. Love-the evidence of how deeply you are woven into me.
Today I decorated the Christmas tree. It should have been done sooner, but I’ve been stuck in the mindset of not moving forward.
Today I display your flags. A flag that honors the young man who stood tall in his dress blues, who carried the weight of service heavier than anyone should. A flag that remembers not just the Marine, but the son, the brother, the friend who gave pieces of himself until there was nothing left to give. And a flag that tells the world you are forever in heaven standing among warriors of light.
Nine years gone. Nine years of silence where your voice should be. Nine years of grief that never lets go.
The tree glows, the flags fly, and I sit here in ache-holding you in memory, in love, in honor-as the tears continue to drop.
You are remembered, Morgan.
Your comedic personality. Your kindness, inspiration, and encouragement to family, friends, and strangers. Your beautiful smile and the Herbert impression. Your love for amphibians. Your Gainz and dedication to self-improvement. The nerdy side of you enthralled with Pokémon, Magic, and D&D.
And the countless other things-your smile, your voice, your strength-millions of fragments that made you whole and made you unforgettable.
I loved you then, I love you still, and I always will.
Hello? “Hi Mom … I wanted to call and let you know that I am OK.”
Oh Morgan! I have so much to tell you – to share with you! So much has happened in the last five years. We adopted a new cat. Her name is Hella. I wonder if you would like her as much as you liked your favorite Willow. And Logan; he is doing phenomenal! He perseveres for his well-being, happiness, and everything he strives for. You two are a lot alike in this aspect. I think he pulls strength from you. He has been determined, dedicated, and healthy. He works hard for what he has .. oh, and he brought a new puppy to our family! His name is Knox. Logan liked my name I picked for him. You know Logan .. all about the dollars! So, Fort Knox – Knox is his name. He is an American Bully. Yes, I had to pick a unique name like always with our pets. You made light fun of this in the past (with Seven’s name, and Hazel’s), but these are the small significant things that make us “us”! You might think he’s obnoxious – one of your favorite identifying terms. Maybe rather extreme; probably more so annoying; at times, though I think you would think he’s cute. You have probably already given him a nickname, like Chubs, or something along those lines! Debo, Phelix, and Seven are all coming to see you in the next couple of years; their health is aging, and it makes me sad. But I know they will be so excited to see you, and I think you will be too. Grams is still working. Do you see her every day? Tell her to retire already!
I walked a 20-mile Ruck Veteran’s Day weekend. Were you walking with me? Could you hear me talking to you then? I did! Complaining and babbling. And asking you for strength to make it to the end. It was rough but I carried through; for you. Do you see your friends often? Engagements, weddings, babies … I see and follow these milestones and put us within them; wondering; dreaming. I spent time with Haley in October. We don’t talk often. I know you are with her always. I wonder if Drew would like you. He doesn’t like guys 😉 She came with me to Titletown for a remembrance event. I know, I know .. the GB Packers. But did you see us holding your Honor and Remember Flag? And all the support out there?
I put that flag out for today. I hope it is seen by all that pass. Gosh, there are a thousand and 51 things I want to tell you. Not that I haven’t told you them during the “in the moment” times, but you’re on the other end listening right now. Like all the times you have been honored and remembered; being carried, memories shared, messages from friends I’ve never personally met but bonded with. So much love and positive impact because of you. You should be proud of yourself. As I am.
We made our new tradition pizza again for Thanksgiving. We also watched the Cowboys game this year. It’s a first in a long time since you went away. It’s just never been the same. You know, I stopped doing traditional food because you never got your requested ham in 2016. I think of this every year. So does Grams. The little things that we wish we could change. Logan makes the dough from scratch. You would like it! I wonder if Logan’s friend Timmy would drive you nuts.
It has been said that one is not supposed to ask their loved one for signs, but will you visit me? Will you send me more signs of your presence? I don’t ask often, and I know you’re busy fighting the good fight (as you are and forever will be a soldier), but I would certainly cherish it. If only I could hold and hug you again. Give you that kiss on your forehead as I walk past the recliner. Remember when you came to my side shortly after you left us? To have that again would mean the world to me Morgan.
Did you see Logan’s new truck? Do you like it? It’s dirty already. But it’s his work truck and it’s another grand accomplishment he has made. I know you are proud of him! Oh, and Isaac’s mullet! Well, as you probably know, he had to cut it off for wrestling. But he was sporting one! And Senri Morgan. I hope that melted your heart. I bet you are her guardian angel. If you haven’t talked to Trevor lately, maybe you should. I think he needs your voice every now and then.
I’m sorry Morgan, my grief and sadness has affected my memory. My thinking and thoughts. I can’t remember everything I want to say or tell you right now and I know once we hang up thoughts will start emerging and I’ll be so upset that I couldn’t remember when I needed to.
~silence~
Morgan? …….. Morgan? ……… hello? …….
And I slowly hung up the phone as I awoke from my sleep. All my random, out of time sequence reflections and I didn’t get to tell him everything I wanted to. Like asking his thoughts on Biden, Covid, and how the World has seemingly gone mad. Talking about my struggles with both health and mental health that I continue to have – not that he would want to hear it, but he always had supporting feedback for me. About the rest of our family and how everyone is doing. Sharing the simple joys that only he and I would understand. Everything. Just everything. How do you fill 5 years of memories, happenings, every day-to-day moments in one phone call? It seemed I had forever. And then it was silent. Him telling me that he called to let me know that he is okay. That is real. But the rest? Did he hear me? I can only believe that even though that call had ended after he said his few words, that he has been present and continues to look on and be a part of our lives every day. Taking in all the craziness, both heartfelt and heartbroken. Guiding us silently. Surrounding us with his love and hearing us. Hearing me and everything I have spoken to him.
I often say that nothing has changed. This still stands. It is still as yesterday. Today, five years ago he was in class at NWTC as I write this. The last text I would receive was at 1:23p. By 3:38p the sirens went by my work window; he had already left us. This timeline never fades. The flashbacks never fade. This pain never fades. My grief never fades.
I forget things. A lot. Grief brain, as I’ve stated many times, is REAL. Add a dose of heavy-duty anxiety, post-traumatic stress, and continuous shots of sadness to this and voilà: Complicated grief? Maybe. I carry some of these characteristics, but not all. Struggle. Another infamous verb. Very real. Consisting of lack of concentration, trust, loneliness, and intense empathy that brings on all sorts of affliction. All that continues to brew within me regardless of what I do for self-help. I often want to leave and be with Morgan. Not to continue the pain within my family and friends, but to cease my own. This is why I understand Morgan’s choice. I live it. He was in a tremendous amount of pain. His service in the military hurt him. I won’t get into the what if’s and why’s about that. That is my private time. With my own mind. But I understand his anguish. I hold the same. It is wearing and it whittles away at your mind, body, and soul.
The things I do know and remember right now:
Morgan should be here. He is loved. He is missed. He continues to touch others in an influential way. He left everlasting inspiration.
Daly Chronicles 