Death in the Foreign Service

     I've written before about dealing with death in the Foreign Service, and here I am again.  It never gets easier.  In fact, given my age and the age of those I love, I can only guess that it will get much worse with time.  Today, I'm grieving the death of a man I loved more than life, once upon a time.  Don't get me wrong.  The love I had for him was never sexual or romantic.  My love for him was a completely platonic, but special love that many men and women would never understand; because most men and women can't be just friends.  See, I was raised with brothers and sisters that I loved but never knew or understood.  I'd never in my life imagined that I could identify with and get to know someone the way I did the man we all called "Bird."
     Bird came into my life when I was broken.  For the most part, I'd broken myself; however, lots of people close to me had had a hand in it.  I'd finally made friends of my own, the first ones I'd ever had that I never had to compete with or worry about.  They were a leftover from a heart-wrenching breakup, but I took what I could get after that.  They'd been "his" friends that I adopted when he had to leave town for family reasons.  I finally had my first two girlfriends (female, not lesbian); and I didn't know how to handle that.  I'd grown up in a competitive family and school atmosphere where certain friendships meant status; and I'd always been a complete failure when it came to those.  My two new girlfriends, C&S (I don't have their permission to use their names) made sure to tell me how effed up my understanding of what friendships consisted of were, and I relished in the honesty.  I pushed myself into becoming a true ally and friend, no matter what.  C went into Basic Training just before 9/11, and I missed her desperately.  S decided to break away from her family's money and status and make a go on her own.  She was my only true friend for a long time, and I was jealous of anyone who got in the way of that.
      One weekend, she went away to visit old friends.  She came back with Bird.  From what I remember (and don't trust my memory because it's always faulty), they'd known each other in the past and had mutual friends. They met up on the road trip and had connected.  After that, they were inseparable.  I remember meeting him and looking only for flaws.  What did he want from her?  Why S?  Why now?  What did he hope to gain?  When (not if) would he break her heart?  I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop while I watched my only friend fall head over heels.  I went out with them as the third wheel, and they visited me at my house, just to check in on me.  S was always worried about how I was doing.  Was I going to class?  Was I taking care of myself?  Etc.  And she always had Bird in tow.  His joyfulness was disarming, considering how weary I was in her stead.  My ex returned to the area and met Bird, liking him immediately.  Who wouldn't, I realize now.  He brought joy, understanding, laughter, and a judgment-free atmosphere everywhere he went.  It was some time--months later--that S and Bird were in my apartment (a disgusting hovel that I never kept clean) and we were all drinking A LOT.  We were playing cards and board games and having so much fun when I finally had enough.  I looked Bird in the eye and said, "I can't take it anymore.  I've tried and tried to hate you; but I just don't.  I like you.  There, I said it."  And Bird, being the man he was, tipped his head back and guffawed long and loud.  Then he leveled up, looked me in the eye, and said, "I knew you'd come around."
     From that second on, for the next six years or so, I had a brother, father, and friend. Bird saw me through joy, failure, mistakes, happiness, grief, sadness, despair, truth, etc.  He always gave it to me straight. He married my best friend, and I was thrilled for them both.  I'd had friends before, but never absolute truth; and I don't know that I will ever get that again.  I don't know that many men (outside of Bird and my husband) can be that way.
     So here I am 12 years later, and you're probably asking yourself why I'm writing this.  I'm trying to make heads or tails of that myself.  First, let me say that without Bird, I 100% would not be sitting where I am today and writing this.  Why?  Because he showed me the status quo.  He showed me that a strong man can be a feminist.  He taught me that it was ok to question politics.  He taught me that I should always be honest with people, regardless of the outcome.  In short, he was the great man in my life when I didn't have one.  I remember screwing up and worrying about disappointing Bird when I had to own up to what I'd done.  It's not like I was going to be in trouble; I just didn't want to let the man in my life down.  I could go on and on, but the truth is, Bird gave me perspective.  He gave me confidence when I had none.  I was able to have a man in my life who wasn't my brother or father and not have to worry about getting hit on.  Those men don't come around every day.
     Fast forward twelve years later.  I parted ways with S and Bird--not out of malice but out of the normal flow of life--and hadn't seen him in several years.  To be clear, I never stopped loving or respecting him.  He and S got married and had children and lived their lives for years and years.  Bird died last week from a heart attack.  He wasn't even 40 years old.  I missed him everyday from the time we lost touch and I feel guilty for even grieving him now.  He is the reason I searched for a feminist man.  He's the reason I demanded and sought truth in my relationships.  He was the model for the man I eventually found.  Bird, you changed me.  You molded me.  You are so much more responsible for the way I turned out than you ever realized.  My God, you saved me.  You did.  100%.  Thank you.  I will miss you forever, and I will pray for your wife and children. Thank you.

Reflections on Another FS Christmas

     I just took the time to go back and read my post about celebrating Christmas while in the Foreign Service.  I realize how sad and removed it sounded, and I want to acknowledge that here.  I was sad and a bit numb/depressed when I wrote it; however, I did mean what I said.  Celebrating things like Christmas or Easter (or other religious and cultural holidays that I don't personally celebrate) can be extremely tough when you're away from everyone you know.  I know it can be for me.  I often think about my childhood in Louisiana when Easter and Christmas come around, and I remember the gifts and the crawfish boils and the Easter egg hunts with aunts and uncles and cousins I never see anymore.  Those are all things that are hard to deal with.  This year, the winter blues got me really down for a few weeks.  I didn't get a lot of holiday preparation done that I should have because I was dealing with my own demons (like only 8 hours of daylight in Budapest in December); and I let a lot of things slide.  And, honestly, I didn't think that I'd have to deal with as many mail issues in Budapest as we had in Tirana.  Well, ladies and gentlemen, I was absolutely wrong.  Things we ordered for Black Friday that we knew wouldn't/couldn't arrive to Post in time for Christmas still have not arrived.  Americans, do not take your Prime shipping for granted EVER again.

     All of that said, I wanted to talk about my little family's Christmas this year.  Our boys know the secret; so there were so many fewer stressors this year as parents.  That helped more than I can ever say.  While I know my husband and I (and the kids) will always miss the magic of Christmas, it was just...so much easier on my husband and I this Christmas.  And for that I am truly, truly grateful. 

     I am sure that I am not alone in always looking at the final Christmas tally for each kid and thinking that we just didn't get them enough or that the stacks look small or that we should add more fillers.  Well, the truth is, I am always wrong about that.  And this year was awesome because the jolly old fat man didn't get the credit; WE DID!  Our kids opened their big gifts on Christmas Eve this year rather than on Christmas Day.  And, folks, that's where the magic happened.  See, traditionally, (meaning in my family when I was growing up) we opened the gifts from the parents in the late evening, after dinner on Christmas Eve.  Santa came that night, and we opened his gifts on Christmas Day.  Well, our boys begged us to be able to open our gifts on Christmas Eve morning.  And do you know what the absolute best part of being a parent is?  You get to break the rules any freaking time you want!  And you get to be a hero to your kids by breaking with an archaic tradition and letting your little piece of the world do exactly as it wants to do.  It was magic.  They woke us up insanely early (but with cups of coffee!) and they dove into their really big gifts.  We saw magic happen and heard screams of joy because they knew that WE had bought and planned and wrapped just for them.  They played all day long.  They built Legos and took pictures and thanked us profusely all day.  We felt like heros.  And you know what?  They didn't give a damn that their Amazon Echos didn't make it (and still are not here in mid-Janurary because 17 pouch bags got rerouted in error).  They don't care.  They knew that it was just the four of us this Christmas.  They knew this was a "lean" year because I haven't been able to work in a year and a half.  They knew the stacks would be smaller.  They knew they were going to open some pictures rather than gifts.  And you know what?  They knew all of that and we all still had the best Christmas we've ever had together. 

     In this lifestyle that many of us have chosen, we knew going in to it that serving our country was going to be taxing in ways that we'd never understand at first.  We knew there would be road bumps.  We knew it would be hard sometimes and perfect others.  And we all chose to do it anyway.  That said, our kids didn't choose this.  Knowing and realizing that can make us (as parents) a little sensitive and a lot worried at times.  But when you have amazing little people in your lives, you come to realize that the more "imperfect" it seems to be, the more perfect it truly is.  And the truth is, your kids don't care if they have the perfect Christmas.  They just want you to help them put their Legos together.