The Long Walk

The Long Walk

My eyes focused on his crooked smile and the scar on his lip, forcing myself to remember as much as I could about him.

"I'm coming home sis," he told me, but in my head, I thought, "No you're not."

Three months later, my brother Robert - forever my Bubba -- was dead.

I immediately missed his smell - body odor with a minute hint of deodorant - an uncommon smell to cherish, but one that made me want to bury my head into his armpit just one more time. One more time to joke with him about how much I wished deodorant would work on him.

The journey from tragedy to redemption was the longest walk I have ever had to take. It has taken me nearly 19 years to get to the point where I am now - a sister grappling with the loss of two brothers and her best friend, one at war and the others to the invisible wounds that plague the men and women of our military.

The losses were unique yet similar. As an Army veteran, I was able to experience the great love of brotherhood but also keenly aware of the realities of military service. Losing my brothers challenged my resolve and changed my life forever.

A year before Robert deployed in 2003, my other brother Gilbert deployed to Iraq with the Marines. In 2008, Jeremy deployed to Iraq, also with the Marines. The fear was there but not the overwhelming sense of dread when they deployed. I knew they would return. I could not have predicted what would happen next. Nothing about my service could have prepared me for the events that would follow.

11 years after Robert's death, Jeremy would take his own life. I don't know if your life flashes before your eyes when you die, but what I do know is that my life with my brother played in my head like an old 8mm film the day that I received the news. His choice to leave this world would wreak havoc and devastation. The fallout would cause me to retreat to my own darkness. I once again was faced with my own demons. I was on a crash course with what almost took my life 17 years earlier in 2002.

I was pregnant with my last child; hopeless, with tremendous sadness and a darkness that beckoned my life. In a desperate moment with letters written and pills in hand, I cried out silently to God. "God, if you are real like they say you are, SHOW ME!! Stop me from what I am about to do." What seemed like a few short seconds later, the tiny hands of my then 5-year-old son, knocked on the door. "Go away son, leave me alone please!" He persisted though. "No, momma. I have something to tell you." he said. "Jesus is here mom, he is with the baby, and everything is going to be okay!" I found myself crawling to the bathroom where I flushed the pills down the toilet and tore up the letters. I could not comprehend why God chose to save me in that moment.

Jeremy's death in 2015 would turn out to be a life saving event for me. I, for the first time since my time in the military, had reached out for help. Beginning the process with the VA for assistance. For so long I felt undeserving of this help. I thought my brothers and best friend deserved it more than myself.

I still didn't understand why I was still here. It took 6 years for me to finally commit to therapy and the services I was receiving.

It was in 2022 when my best friend Isaac, a fellow Army veteran, took his own life. It was amid gut-wrenching despair that I finally saw why God chose to save me all those years ago. I had been given a different mission. My service wasn't to be while I wore the uniform; it was to come after. My purpose became so incredibly clear. I was saved to share our stories, our journeys from darkness to light.

I wrote an open letter to Robert on the 19^th anniversary of the battle that took his life.

"Open Letter to my brother, Robert Ray Arsiaga, my "BUBBA".

I struggled to find the words to say today. The day that we learned you were no longer with us, 19 years ago.

19 YEARS!! A random thought came to my mind the other day on my way home from work, I was playing a song that reminded me of you, and I said to you out loud, "Brother I could have never imagined a world without you in. I could never fathom surviving a day, much less 19 years. I cried so much that day, I had to pull over a couple of times and cried even more when I got home.

I can remember the safety in your big ole bear hugs. Oh, how your crooked smile lit up the room. The laugh I used to think was so funny. Oh, and your smell, I remember just how tightly I hugged you that last day and took such a big whiff. I wanted to remember everything about you. I somehow knew that that was the last time.

As the years pass, my fear is that I will forget the sound of your voice, oh how I crave the sound of it so. I fear that soon will fade the memories and that is why I talk about you so much. I carry your name and your memory with me everywhere I go. I make sure that your name will never be forgotten.

I used to think the grief of losing both you and Jeremy was going to kill me. I feel the loss in my gut and the physical pain at times was hard to bear. I used to long for sweet release just so I could be near you both. I love you both so much that this life was almost unbearable without you.

19 years later, brother, I have seen the beauty this life has to offer. I have love in my life in ways that I would have never expected, a few good friends who always have my back, 3 boys that you would be proud of, and I am finally at peace with the fact that loving you and grieving you go hand in hand.

HOW FUCKING LUCKY, I AM TO HAVE HAD SUCH A GREAT LOVE!!

I WILL FOREVER MISS YOU, I WILL FOREVER LOVE YOU, I WILL FOREVER GRIEVE THE LOSS, AND I WILL ALWAYS BE SO INCREDIBLY LUCKY TO HAVE BEEN YOUR BIG SISTER.

BUBBA, I MISS YOU OH SO MUCH!!!! ONE DAY I WILL BE WHERE YOU ARE AND UNTIL THAT DAY, I WILL SPEAK YOUR NAME.

LOVE YOU ALWAYS,

YOUR BIG SISTER."

My journey is not done. My love for my brothers and best friend who passed away will never die. My hope for my surviving brother and others like us to see that as long as there is light in this life, darkness will not win! The long walk from tragedy to redemption is worth the fight.