Jessica and her brother Morgan

It was a rainy, cold day on Friday, November 12, 2004. A blue star hung from our window in the front of the house to show the neighbors my brother, Morgan was off at war. I passed that star many times and never really stopped to look at it. I had just walked into the house from working when I saw my mom bringing in groceries. She excitedly told me about the Hickory Farms gift set she bought Morgan to send him for Thanksgiving. She told me it would be great for my boyfriend too, since he was also in Iraq. 

A few minutes later the phone rang. She paused before picking it up, I could see from the caller ID that it was my dad. They were divorced and now that all the kids were grown there was not much left for them to call each other about. Expect for one thing…Morgan. She knew when she answered the phone what he would say but I did not. I watched as she collapsed to the couch catching herself on the coffee table and moaning in a way I had never heard. I sat on the stairs across from her and watched as she struggled to hold the phone out to me. My life had just changed with one phone call. 

Jessica and her brother Morgan

I stood and grabbed the phone my dad told me that Morgan had been killed and I needed to take care of my mother. The weight of that responsibility sat heavily on my shoulders as I began to cry and grieve myself. I was the last child of her five to still be at home. I was the only one close enough to be able to care for my mom. 

The next few days came and went as we drove from Virginia to Indiana to Tennessee. We had memorial services for him and many people we had not seen in a long time came by to pay their respects to the fallen hero. We finally made it to Tennessee where we would wait for Morgan to arrive and do the funeral and burial. 

My parents picked Tennessee because my grandparents lived there and it was Morgan’s favorite place to go. He and my grandfather were best friends and they would hike the mountains there frequently. When I walked into my grandparent’s house, my grandfather stood up to greet me but quickly fell back onto the couch. I had never seen a broken man until that day, he was broken. My grandmother quickly came over to me with her apron on. She cried while hugging me saying, “I just can’t believe it.” Then she rushed right back into the kitchen.  I was surprised to see her so, calm and focused. 

Once the burial was over and it was time for all of us to go back to our lives I realized how hard that would really be. My mother, like my grandmother actually seemed okay. Not happy but okay. I had been so distracted trying to care and tend to my mom that I forgot about me. My boyfriend (whom I would later marry) would call me and ask how I was doing. I was too afraid to tell him the truth because he was still in Iraq. I did not want him to worry about me or think I was a depressing girlfriend to be around. 

When I went back to college classes for the first time, I sat alone in the cafeteria and watched as everyone went about their business. In that moment I wanted to scream at them, “Do you not know what just happened?! My brother died!” But I did not say anything. As the months went on I tried to find a way to bring every conversation I had with people to Morgan. It started to get weird. So then I flipped to the other side. I would not talk about him at all with anyone except close family members. I did that for a few years. I kept praying how to handle my grief with others. People do not like to talk about grief. When I did talk about it they just would not know what to say. God kept comforting my heart and telling me it was okay. I trusted that God had a plan and that He was there for me. 

God blessed me with grandparents that were completely devoted to Him. Every summer my siblings and I would visit them and they would make sure we were in Vacation Bible School and in church every Sunday. I can still hear my grandmother’s voice singing hymns and I carry those songs in my heart. Almost 16 years later I can see how He was training me for this battle of grief. He placed people in my life to go through this journey with me. Whenever I strayed He was there waiting for me to come back to Him. The weapons He equipped me with when I was young are what He wanted me to use today. 

Psalm 144:1 Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle…

Jessica, her husband Adam, and daughters.