C
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Level 90 Ginger
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Reg. Date: Jun 2002
Location: Missouri
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Reply 6 of 34 (Originally posted on: 03-03-10 06:38:47 AM)
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My grandfather died when I was in basic training.
I'd just ran 4 miles out to the range in full battle rattle because I was missing ability group runs to set up the range. This was in week 4, so that still hurt, but it was doable. What sucked was getting smoked since 3am, then running out there. So, I'm resting under a shade tree, eating my MRE breakfast when they start firing, and I end up towards the end of the rotation.
Around noon, I start to move towards the firing line, because it's finally time for me to group and zero. Then I hear it "PVT [Chimp]! Get your battle buddy and report to the guard tower."
A buddy from second platoon was my firing coach at the time, which is utterly useless when you're first learning, but since that's how it was set up, that's where we were. I got up, dropped my magazine, cleared the weapon, got rodded off the range and started walking up the steps to the guard tower. I thought they'd found my contact lenses stashed in my locker or something.
So we do the dog and pony show of me knocking, asking to enter, standing at parade rest, blah blah. Nervous as shit. My drill sergeant, who at the point in my life, was the most nasty, meanest person I'd ever encountered, I mean, he fucking scared me, told me to sit down.
"You're grandfather's dead."
I couldn't even talk. Just a flood of memories and tears, unloading all the pent up frustration, sadness, and anger. I remembered all the good stuff with the man, him walking me up and down the driveway in Savannah when I was like 6, teaching me all about the religion that eventually drove him insane and killed him. The ridiculous stories, the card games, all of it.
And I couldn't do a fucking thing. Just helpless, angry and a little embarrassed to be crying in front of all these tough guys. After I pulled it together they told me I'd be leaving post the next day to go to the memorial service and started talking me through the process of getting him full military honors for his funeral. (We didn't do that, but it was nice to see they were human.)
It was the last time I've cried in my adult life, and only the second time in my life someone I was close to died. It's an absolutely terrible, no matter what your outlook is on life and beyond.
I wouldn't wish it on anyone, and I'm sorry to hear about your grandmother.
I don't have a drinking problem.
I drink, I get drunk, I fall down.
No problem.
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