our new norm
It was no surprise – the calls the next week, the week after that, and the ones after that, were really no easier than that first week. In fact, in some ways, they were even more difficult. Tears were still plentiful and trying to adjust to life physically without him was not proving easy. At this point, Dylan had officially entered boot camp. The REAL work. Hell on earth as he has called it a few times. Ten weeks of brutal mental & physical training to best prepare him for the one thing I don’t think you can ever really prepare any human for – to be a soldier. If you want a brief education on Army boot camp, I highly recommend the YouTube series Ten Weeks. It was actually filmed at Fort Jackson where Dylan was stationed and, in my opinion, is a great summary of what potential soldiers and we, as parents, should generally expect our SIT to experience. New acronym alert: SIT - Soldier In Training. Even if you do not have a child joining the military, my hope is it will provide you with a deep(er) sense of appreciation and respect for those who do choose this path. Another win for the internet and technology! And to be clear, this isn’t even the hardest boot camp – for those soldiers who actually choose infantry and combat, they grind through a separate 24-week program, something much beyond anything I can even fathom.
As the organized type, I appreciated that boot camp was crystal clear, defined week by week, and every phase is even color coded. We knew exactly what Dylan would be doing in every week that he was there. A method to this madness.
After the first few calls, all we could assume was that IF calls were going to be granted, they would only be on Sunday, and ONLY if the entire platoon had earned them. Super. The fate of Dylan getting to talk to his family for 20 minutes, once a week, lied in the hands of complete strangers. Strangers who, oddly, were now physically identical clones - the exact same shaven head, the exact same camouflage uniform and boots, and one of them, more than likely, the individual that stole Dylan’s watch. At first, to an 18-year-old, this expectation seems absolutely unfair (probably as unfair as just about every other experience he was having); but the beauty of this expectation, among others that were revealing themselves to him, is he was left no choice but to establish quick faith and trust in these soon-to-be brothers. Battle buddies, the official term he calls them.
By the fourth or fifth phone call, Dylan was already leaning on a tight-knit group of guys. All ages, all walks of life; some were married, some had kids, some from troubled backgrounds. Dylan was by far the youngest, probably at least by 4 years. Another unfortunate military fact? This initial group of comrades you bond with, you’ll likely not advance with in any way. These special bonds Dylan was forming were not likely going to go past these ten weeks. They all had different MOS’s, were going to different stations after boot camp, and would honestly probably never see each other again after they graduated, unless they orchestrated it themselves outside of the military. Perhaps it would have been easier to remain reserved, not bond, not develop those relationships. But they needed each other and grew to know more about each other in those ten short weeks than most friends might realistically learn about each other in a lifetime – they cried together, they encouraged each other, they provided emotional comfort, and they kicked each other’s butts when they needed to come together for the good of the platoon. Dylan broke up physical fights when frustration and exhaustion got the best of some; he helped carry a buddy to medical when he was injured. Though the longevity of these bonds and friendships seemed finite, it made the time they had together, though difficult, seem like a gift. One cool thing that Dylan shared is that when they do have downtime, you are forced to get creative. In one of those instances, they all decided to share their driver’s licenses so everyone could see each other’s photo – when everyone had hair and/or facial hair! For those of you that saw Dylan before he left for the Army, well, you know that if there had been a contest of who looked the most different compared to their license photo, he probably would have taken 1st prize. He was a complete cave man!
Whether or not these friendships were going to be lifelong was up to him, but there was so much comfort in me knowing he had a “family” with him when we ourselves couldn’t be.
Shifting gears.
For me, the anticipation of the Sunday calls can be best described as how I imagine young children must feel on Christmas morning – unmeasurable joy and excitement; and though you were never quite sure what was going to be under the tree, you would be thankful and happy with the gifts nonetheless (if you weren’t a complete brat). I intentionally searched through memories of my own Christmas mornings as a youth in hopes to solidify this theory – and I was right. It was absolutely the most comparable joy as an adult. Sure, calls vacillated between holding back tears and sometimes no tears at all, but they were a treasured gift I was beyond blessed and thankful for. For the moment, it was all we had.
And remember my previous plight to encourage time for both family and friends? This proved true in every phone call as well. To most of our offspring’s disbelief, moms are not idiots – while I was pining for every second of Dylan’s attention on the phone, I knew he was on the other end of that phone answering every text message, responding to every DM and Snap he had received within the last week, all while trying to carry on a meaningful conversation with his nnej. Of course, I could tell - delayed responses when I asked questions; asking me to repeat myself. The last thing I wanted to do was put him in a position to choose – that wasn’t fair to him. And later I would be happy to find out he wasn’t just texting friends – he would be texting his grandparents, or family friends who had reached out to him with encouraging words, all of whom had later told us how happy and surprised they were to hear from Dylan. He was doing everything he could to stay connected to the people that meant the most to him in what scarce time he had available every week.
I was growing to value what each phone conversation with Dylan made me think about. Though brief, our calls would strike new wonders in me about his future. By example, one day I know I will have to share my time with him - with a girlfriend, perhaps someday a wife, and even his own children. I loved what it was also engaging in my own personal thinking. What emotion(s) was I particularly feeling? What character qualities was I now so thankful Dylan possessed? How could I find ways to continue to nurture these qualities in him, when at some point we’d have more direct contact?
I was in awe of his inner strength; a magnitude of strength I admittedly did not recognize inside of him at just 18 years old. I feel like it is easy to say people are strong, but there is no proof we are until we are actually put to life’s difficult tasks. What I was being gifted to witness in him, and continue to witness in him still, is on a remarkably different level. I had not given him enough credit and, humbly admit, underestimated him. Not only was he physically and mentally pushing through Army boot camp, but he was handling raw emotions compounded on him daily: pride, stress, fear, loneliness, inadequacy, and disappointment.
I’ve since had a conversation with Dylan, seeking an honest response in if he felt underestimated in these early days, fully prepared to whole-heartedly apologize if he had. His response? “nnej, you don’t need to apologize. I underestimated myself, to be honest, and when I started pushing myself, I found this strength on my own”.
If this was a sample of the precious gems I could expect to extract from our future conversations, well, I was fully prepared to accept only 10-20 minute weekly phone calls for the rest of my life.
And you know what else I have realized from these seemingly awful and uncertain, yet beautiful, moments? An entirely new dimension of love bursting from this mama’s heart.