I struggle in the months after CG6535 crashes, and it feels hard to get back to the way life was before all the loss. After Thomas dies and we have both memorials, I learn how many people Thomas impacted. People everywhere are sharing stories about the great times they spent with him, the amazing memories they had, and how special he made everyone feel. People from all walks of life have stories about Thomas and how much he looked out for anyone who seemed lonely or didn’t fit. The world is truly a better place because of him.

Hearing all of the great things about Thomas and realizing what an incredible person he was inspires me to think about how I want to be remembered and the legacy I want to leave. I have been taking a long, hard look in the mirror and striving to be a better person ever since he passed. I want to live a life Thomas would be proud of. I think all of us are trying to find the best way to move forward.

This loss galvanizes my relationship with Natalie, and I feel closer to her than ever. I lean on her through all of the struggle and don’t know where I’d be without her. I’m not the only one feeling more connected in my relationship after so much tragedy. Both Duby and Guido are now engaged, and Duby is set to get married in July. I am extremely happy for them and desperately need something to look forward to. I need to feel joy. I need to laugh. I need to remember what happiness feels like again through celebrating life with my best friends.

Anthony is having an engagement party at the end of June in New Orleans, and Duby is getting married in July in Pompano Beach, Florida, so Natalie and I plan to fly to New Orleans, rent a car, and have an epic road trip from New Orleans to Florida. I am absolutely humbled when I am asked to be the best man for both weddings. I have an incredible time with Anthony celebrating him and his beautiful bride-to-be at their engagement party. From there, Natalie, Anthony, and our friend Pete hit the road and travel east. We stop in our old stomping grounds in Pensacola and enjoy Pensacola Beach. We eat at McGuire’s, our favorite Irish bar, and post some dollar bills on the wall. We spend a day at Busch Gardens in Tampa, ripping around on every roller coaster and having some great laughs at the park. It is the perfect adventure to take my mind off all the pain we’ve endured. Eventually, we make it to Florida.

Since Duby is basically my adopted brother, my entire family has made it down for his wedding. My mom, dad, sister, brother-in-law, and nieces are all together, and we’re staying at a beautiful vacation house on the Intracoastal in Pompano. We all celebrate the Fourth of July together, dressed head to toe in red, white, and blue. We go to the beach and watch the breathtaking fireworks at Pompano Beach Pier, where they also have a Journey cover band playing. We sing at the top of our lungs, and I dance poorly with my nieces. 

A couple of days later, Duby has a beautiful wedding, and I enjoy every bit of being his best man. I feel lucky that I can give a speech about what a fantastic person he is and how much he means to me as a friend. 

This whole road trip and vacation has been perfect, except I can tell something is wrong with my family. Something doesn’t feel right.

My dad is disappearing and seems disconnected, my mom seems off, and every conversation is peppered with criticism. In a family where tension is normal, this feels different. This feels like a powder keg on the verge of exploding. Everyone is trying their best to act civil, but it only seems to make the situation more charged. I don’t let it ruin my trip and try to enjoy myself before heading back to Puerto Rico, but I’m left feeling a bit sour. 

Shortly after the trip, I learn that my parents are getting divorced, and it’s not pretty.
In September, I am scheduled to go on a two-week deployment patrolling the Windward Passage between Cuba and Haiti, but the situation is pretty ugly with my parents, and my mom is struggling. I know that I need to tell the Operations Officer what is going on, so I go to his office. 

I start with, “Hey, OPS, I am good to go on deployment tomorrow, but I have some stuff going on at home that I need to tell you about for ORM, operational risk management.”

He stops what he’s doing and looks up at me over his glasses. I tell him the whole story, which I haven’t told anyone, and he looks at me, puzzled, for a minute. After some awkward silence, he says, “George, I’m not sending you on this deployment. You need to go home and take care of your family. I know you’re not going to like this, and I know you want to get the mission done, but your family needs you, and that’s more important. I want you flying home tomorrow, and you can submit your leave as soon as you get back. Let me know if you need anything.”

I try to argue, but it’s clear he’s not hearing any of it. I feel terrible that someone has to take my deployment on a day’s notice, but I fear OPS is right. I book a flight home, and the next day, I am in Rhode Island. I talk to my mom, and we decide the best thing for her is to come live with me in Puerto Rico for a little while and then move in with my sister. It’s a pretty tough scene at home, so while my mom is getting her stuff in order, I need to blow off some steam and find the nearest jiu-jitsu gym. I drop into Two Swords Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu Academy in Middletown, Rhode Island, and they treat me like family. Their owner, Pat, is a black belt, prior Navy SEAL, and about the nicest guy you’ll ever meet. I love rolling with these guys, and it is exactly the distraction I need on a pretty terrible trip.

The next day, I turn to something that helped me during my darkest high school days. I take our family dog, Abby, on a walk to Sandy Point Beach. Abby is an absolutely beautiful light golden retriever and technically my sister’s dog that she got for her sixteenth birthday. Abby is like most golden retrievers in that she loves going in the water more than anything. It could be the dead of winter, with ice floating in the water, and she will run full speed straight into it and turn around looking at you, her tail furiously wagging, hoping you’ll throw something to her.

Her best party trick is when you throw white rocks, they have to be white, into the water. She will fully submerge and bring one up to the surface, proud as can be. Abby is undoubtedly a skilled retriever, but she is an even better companion. Abby knows me better than anyone, and if I’m sad, lonely, or stressed, as I often was in high school, she will cuddle up right by my side and do anything she can to make me feel better. There were nights I’d lie awake worried about my future, my OCD, or my grades, and Abby would lie cuddled up next to me until I fell asleep. Abby teaches me exactly why dogs are “man’s best friend.”

So as my family is in shambles, I take Abby to the beach, knowing it will help me feel better. Despite everything else wrong in my world, she is having the time of her life. It is the most beautiful sunny day, and she chases rock after stick after stick for a good hour. After that, I walk her up to my favorite spot in the entire world. South of the main beach, past any of the beautiful New England beachfront houses, there are steep shale cliffs, and the sand is replaced by large boulders. There is a certain rockfall where you can climb to a grassy bluff that overlooks the Sakonnet River. When I was in high school, I would go up there to escape.

Now, as I am sitting here, Abby gets the zoomies like I have never seen. She is soaking wet and covered in sand, flinging salt water all over creation and running in circles as fast as she can through the grass. I can’t help but smile watching her experience pure joy. After a few minutes, she finally tires herself out and sits in the grass next to me, wagging her tail and getting sand and salt water all over me. I pet her and realize how much I have missed being around her. I could sit here in this moment forever with her. 

Later, when my mom has everything in order, we head for the airport and eventually make it back to Puerto Rico. We have a spare bedroom in our apartment, and we get my mom settled in. Once we are back in Puerto Rico, I get right back to working and flying. I feel bad that I can’t do much to take care of my mom, but I still need to stand duty.

After just a few of days back, I get a message from my dad. I don’t particularly want to talk to him right now, but he says it’s important. I call him back, and he tells me that something was wrong with Abby, so he took her to the vet. She has cancer, and it has spread rapidly all through her body. They have to put her down the next day. I’m completely devastated by the news, but what concerns me most is how I am going to tell my mom. She is already having a very rough time, and I have never seen her struggle this much. I’m not sure she can handle any more bad news, and this is terrible news.

Once I get home, I reluctantly tell my mom what has happened with Abby. She calls my dad, and they talk about what the veterinarian said. They are both in rough shape.
The next day, at the vet, my dad calls so we can say goodbye. Right before she is put down, my dad puts the phone on speaker for Abby to hear, and I say goodbye. My mom tells her she’s the best girl, and I can imagine her wagging her tail until the very end in a vet’s office thousands of miles away.

Abby dying causes some of the worst pain I’ve ever felt, and my heart absolutely shatters, but I don’t wince or shed a tear because all I can think is that I need to be strong for my mom right now. The only thing I can manage to do is put on a brave face and continue to bury everything. I think back to walking Abby just a few days ago, and even though she had cancer ravaging her insides, she ran around and swam in that water like she was the happiest dog on earth. She brought so much joy to my life and was always there when I needed her. Losing Abby seems like just another part of the home I used to love dissolving into nothing but memory.

I am not able to process any of this grief because flying has been busy, and I still need to perform at work. In the back of my mind, I am always thinking of the repercussions one bad day in the helicopter can have. While my mom is still in town, I continue to stand duty and fly most days.

On one of these duty days, I get launched for a small plane that has crashed near St. Thomas. We search all day, completing pattern after pattern, again hoping for a miracle. After finishing our last search pattern, we are defeated, having found no survivors. We’re flying at 500 feet, configured for landing, and headed into St. Thomas to refuel. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot something about a half mile away, the slightest bit of movement in a weed line, a tiny splash. I take the flight controls and fly toward the position. As we get closer, I see a woman clinging to a small fishing buoy near the aircraft wreckage, frantically waving at us. We are able to vector in a nearby boat over the radio to pick her up after she has been desperately clinging to that last floating bit of hope all day. Being lucky enough to find that woman is a small sigh of relief that I desperately need right now.

A couple of days later, I enter my Aircraft Commander syllabus, and despite everything being in shambles around me, I need to focus. It is an extremely demanding syllabus, and I study more than I ever have. I want to impress the instructor pilots and show them that I am ready. It is a tremendous amount of stress, but the last thing I want to do right now is show up unprepared to fly. I feel guilty studying so much and going to work when my mom needs me, but I don’t see any other choice.

I realize throughout all of this that I don’t have the opportunity to feel because people need me at my best. My mom needs my best. The woman clinging for dear life to a buoy needed my best. The instructors evaluating me for Aircraft Commander need my best. I somehow find a way to ignore all the pain because I am scared to disappoint everyone who needs my best.

After staying with me for six weeks, my mom moves in with my sister in Arizona, and shortly after, Natalie and I make the trip to spend Thanksgiving with them. We go on some beautiful hikes, and I enjoy quality time with my nieces. My sister puts together an amazing Thanksgiving feast, and we all talk about what we’re grateful for. Since we won’t be together for Christmas, we roll right into celebrating it the day after Thanksgiving. We exchange presents, decorate the tree, and time-travel through the holidays. It is a wonderful trip, but I can tell my mom is still hurting, and it’s the first holiday season without my dad. Despite how hard everyone tries, there is still some sadness that is impossible to ignore.

Natalie and I have a very tropical Christmas in Puerto Rico. She puts up a festive Christmas tree, and we have her family over to our apartment to spend the holiday with us. I try to enjoy myself, but all I can think about is how I want to get through the holidays and be done with 2012. The holidays serve only to remind me of the pain right now, and as much as I try to enjoy the company I am with, I can’t help but think of the people who are absent. I am counting down the days to 2013, when I will get a fresh start, but 2012 delivers one last devastating blow.

On New Year’s Eve, my grandmother dies, and I am left with no grandparents. I imagine how badly my father is hurting, but I’m not there for him. I don’t go to the funeral, and I don’t let myself feel anything. I am too numb.

The National Guard pilots are gone. Dale, Thomas, Drew, and Fernando are gone. Abby is gone. My family as I knew it is gone, and both of my parents are struggling. Now, all of my grandparents are gone. Somehow, I still show up. I’m still studying, flying, standing duty, and working out. I’m still trying desperately to be the person everyone needs, but I am wondering how long I can sustain it. How long can I be everything to everyone else before I break?