Tristessa's Corner

Be Grateful. The Journey of Healing Continues

Tristessa wrote this with retired USMC SSG Michael DeVito

26 May 2005 at 0700. It was time. Off we went to Crestview, Florida, to the Rock Garden Memorial Remembrance Ceremony with the 1st Battalion, 7th Special Forces Group (Airborne). This would be my first time meeting many of Michael’s “brothers.” First time seeing the compound, first of many new experiences with him during this time of renewal.

Mother Nature made it known that she remembered the fallen with us. Her torrential downpour of went on for hours. I remember thinking, Each drop today represents a tear shed by Gold Star Families, their friends, and the comrades of their fallen. Every. Single. Drop.

That day, the accumulated rainfall in Crestview was 2.4 inches in just seven or so hours. We all wore the tears of the families that day. Inside, as we stood in the battalion motor pool, staring into the eyes in the service photos of those 26 fallen Special Forces Group members, a solemn silence seemed to fill the room. We stood in the back, behind a row of service members in uniform.

My mind was whirling, wondering what scenes these men standing there had witnessed, which countries they had entered and luckily returned from. For some reason, I couldn’t look at anyone directly, and found myself staring at the ground, instead, but listening to every word as the host and guest speakers began to speak. And then to the reading of names.

Following the reading, a retired 7th Special Forces group commander, COL Patrick T. Colloton, took the podium to share his reflections of 24 years of service and leadership. He spoke about his journey of healing. How it had ultimately led to this, his message:

Be grateful.

Remember the fallen, acknowledge their sacrifices, honor their memory with gratitude. We have today, we have tomorrow, we have our lives, families, and friends. Be grateful.

In the audience with me that day was one who needed this message perhaps more than most. Each journey of healing is unique to the individual. We all have our approach to pain. Some cope with obsessive impulses, others cope with isolation, still others by numbing the pain and silently suffering while destroying everything they once knew as whole.

Certainly, some may label one way of healing as “healthier” than others. But as great as finding that one perfect method to be happy and whole again would be, it’s just not how life works.

SSG (Ret) Michael DeVito’s journey has been one of epic levels of pain and self-harm, not a ride of rainbows and unicorns by anyone’s measure. After years of allowing darkness to overtake joy, Michael found the inner will to finally regain the life of the living, to experience that joy again and believe in his ability to move ahead. No longer on that path of selfdestruction, his new path holds hope. The dark path is fading. Every sunset now is a triumph; every sunrise is a moment to be grateful.

To me, the power of the two words spoken by the respected, battle-tested colonel that Memorial Day was a flame lighting a place of deep reflection. Having just visited the World Trade Center Memorial the week prior, I understood the unspoken value of those words.

Be grateful for my life each day. Be grateful for all of those who lost their lives on that day. Be grateful for my freedom.

Michael, leaning into his life with gratitude, hope, and tenacity, shared his thoughts on May 26.

I understand that what you are about to read may seem strange. When I first heard it today, I was skeptical myself. But stay with me here.

Today, I attended a Memorial Day ceremony at a place I called home for nearly a decade, a place I loved with all my heart, but that I hadn’t visited in many years. I had almost forgotten just how much I loved It and the brothers I

COL Patrick T. Colloton speaks.

Tristessa's Corner

had there. Almost. Until the moment I put the car in park and put just one foot down on the pavement.

In an instant, it all came rushing back – the memories, the good times, the bad times, the laughs, the tears, the blood. The hard work, sweat, and heartache. The loved ones lost.

And the self-inflicted guilt of surviving.

How then, any logical person should ask, could I be feeling grateful? The answer is, I listened to a man much wiser than myself speaking to a crowd of his peers and their families as he stood before an overwhelming row of pictures of men who gave their lives for their brothers, for our freedom and our way of life. Who did it for what they believed in so deeply that they were prepared to make that ultimate sacrifice whenever it came. Men who, remembered, now charge each and every one of us to not feel sorrow, or guilt, but instead to be thankful.

I wish I could recite verbatim what he said and how he said it, but I can’t. Still, I will attempt to pay homage by paraphrasing what I heard him say.

Michael: For many of us, Memorial Day comes only once a year, but for some it is here every day. The absence cannot be shielded by time or soothed by change or kind words. It remains. The speaker went on to challenge us to replace those innate emotions accompanying that absence with thankfulness … to be thankful for those memories, those good times, those bad times, those laughs, the blood sweat and tears shed, and all the heartache and hard work shared together rather than to carry the guilt.

So, for that, sir, I am grateful … You have given me a new perspective. I am grateful that I can begin to shed the guilt in light of this new discovery. I have come to realize that the hardest part about my transition was not overcoming the tragedies but overcoming fear – the fear of living a real life again.

To my fallen brothers, I will always love you and miss you deeply, but I am thankful for the time we did share. We will meet again someday.

Until Valhalla, watch out for us.