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​Sometimes there are no words to encompass what we need. Sometimes, only an outcry, a hope, or a prayer will help. Because we are made up of different belief systems and ideaologies, we offer this opportunity to speak and show up how you need. Perhaps that is burning sage. Perhaps that is meditating. Perhaps that is holding space in your heart for all that is happening. For this guest blogger...it is a prayer. 
​May we all hold each other close. ​

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I am by no means a fan of any WAR. I lived with it in every room of my house, in every hour of every day for the majority of the last 20 years.

And no, you're absolutely right. I was not the one kicking down anonymous doors, not the one entering areas that had been abandoned by Defensive forces for nearly 6 years, not the one sleeping on the ground, not the one being hunted, not the one in the cross hairs of an enemy rifle.

Nor was I the one leading Soldiers in battle or losing those Soldiers, sometimes daily.

But l did live with that reality, ever yday.

I lived with it, along with so many others, with the effects of war.

I was the one who, stayed awake all hours of the night, not sleeping until I (hopefully) heard a "ping" on my laptop, letting me know "all OK". I spent a lot of nights praying no one would knock on my door. I was the one peering through the window as a casualty notification team turned into a neighbor's driveway. Sometimes, I was the one who knew the worst had already happened, the one who knew that others would be notified of their loved one's death. I was the one who held familiy members, shaking in their grief and tried to offer comfort in their loss. I was the one who others, sometimes, looked to for help in making sense of the nonsense.

I say this so you will be assured that I know the cost of war. So that you know that I would never lightly suggest, "yes, let's go to war."

So today, because of those experiences, I can physically feel the fear, the worry, the knowledge of what is about to come these next 72 hours. Because after that, they will all be behind enemy lines.

I wish I had some great words of wisdom, some encouragement, some HOOAH BATTLE CRY, that would lead us all in buckling down and gutting it out.


But I don't.


Not one word.


All I have is a simple prayer, God be with us all, be with those in Afghanistan who are in eminent danger, with those trying to assist in evacuation, for those in leadership who are making life and death decisions. AMEN.

When we launched our new site, I wanted to make sure we somehow made mention of the woman who created the beautiful works of art that are our trees. 
I should have known Melissa was already on top of it. 
This is the story of Victoria Diehl Holm, the woman who created our personal tree art. 
And my one of my very own retreat sisters. ~Kristina


Here I sit and struggle that I have to get the mower with the flat on the trailer, my push mower died, the other mower switch broke, the grass I cut is growing faster then the kids and now my Ford has a flat tire that's Un-fixable.  I really just feel like to crying.  Idk. Maybe it's because Memorial Day is looming in the future and my soldier is half way around the world? Maybe it's issue after issue that falls so heavily on my shoulders?. Maybe it's the fact that I miss my husbands face and he may be  extended? With each breath that I take exhaustion sets in,  life seems to just ware me out. The list grows. 
Memorial Day reminds me that losses are greater for so many others, shame on me. I just feel a little selfish right now. 

Pity party has begun.
Now let it go. 


Breathe, just breathe.

Breathe, just breathe.    

People ask all the time if I need help and usually I'm ok. I think I can do it all. I guess everything just gets a little over whelming sometimes...


To think it all started with a letter, 1990, I wrote "An any service member letter" and my now husband's friend opened it, thought I was "full of it",  my husband said. He picked it up because of the art I drew on the outside of the envelope that cradled probably a ten page typed letter that I wrote for weeks on my UNIX each break I took. That was the beginning of our beautiful, sometimes bumpy, never boring, never ending, truelove story.  

My husband I met when he was in the Marine Corps, Special Forces. I can't share much about that, you understand, that would be another story completely. 

This ones about me...

We started our family a little early, we married, as our family grew he was in the IRR, the Marines kept their grip on him for a while. Which didn't work as well now that he had a family.  He chose to leave the Marines and joined the more local National Guard in NY, where he served for years. Activation's for natural disasters were many and on 9/11 our lives forever changed. He was a first responder and worked on the search/rescue & search/recovery for weeks.  We made it through okay but the military called him to go away to school for 6 months. I decided I didn't want to stay in NY alone. It was a scary time there and we were unsure of our safety. We packed up the kids and went to live on base with him. I quickly realized how much better life was being on an actual Military base with other people who understood what it was all about. The good and bad, I felt more comfortable there, more connected then I did in my hometown. 

I left my family and job behind, to think of it, I think left myself behind too.

Life went on, the kids grew, we had deployments and relocations. Our story was a little different because we were Civilian & Military. Between military schools, civilian work and military responsibilities I struggled silently. Raising the kids alone, without family and missing dear friends. I thought nothing of putting the kids in the car and traveling 18 hours to spend some time with my best friends who understood what I was going through. 

Don't get me wrong, I am blessed in many ways, family, friends, husband who loves me, and good health. After many years I was really feeling lost, without direction because I was the one to "keep the peace" in the house. Taking care of all the families needs while unintentionally leaving my own behind. I did run, worked out and I loved being a mom. I Just fell into the caretaker roll very well, or at least I thought I did. The kids inform me that "This mom is a yeller and I'd have to agree. I look back and see that I was frustrated and lonely, I guess, unhappy too but I didn't know why.

A Military friend told me about an organization, Her War, Her Voice, (HWHV) that was doing a military spouse retreat. She told me to write a letter explaining why I felt I needed to be there. So, in the middle of photographing a friends weekend wedding I wrote and submitted my essay, never thinking I would be selected. To my surprise I was. I would be one of the first 15 woman to attend the retreat in Tennessee. 

I left my family for the first time for a week and went off into the mountains of Tennessee with the other women and my best friend, who was also selected. We lived 875 miles apart and we talked frequently, but now we'd get together to explore this HWHV retreat. I couldn't pick a better friend to go with. 

The retreat helped me to peel away the layers of leather like skin,  that formed around who I once was,  uncovering a happier more joyful me. We talked, walked, ate, cried, laughed, and I want to say that I bled from deep inside. I/We shared our deepest fears, thoughts, emotions for the first time ever...I wasn't alone. Others felt the way I did. It was as though I had an epiphany.  I don't know exactly when it happened.  It could have been at any point but I just recall waking up and breathing in the air.  I could breath again and it was glorious. 

When I lived on base we never really talked about the feelings we had. We just supported each other the best way we knew. Whatever it was we understood. Sometimes no words were spoken but we understood. Now we talked about the proverbial elephant in the room, life & death, fears & joys, sorrow and laughter. All the things we kept inside. 

When I went home to the coffee shop to have coffee with some friends they told me I looked 10 years younger. I felt joy again. I was happy to be home. I didn't feel like I was struggling because my struggles were set free. It wasn't just HWHV but it was the work I did, the chance I took, being able to let it go, expose myself, taking a chance paid off. 

I was asked to Photograph a retreat in Montana and that in itself was an amazing gift to be given. To be a participant in the working sense,  I was observing from the outside, jumping  into their lives and capturing it all on film.  To see the struggles and understand the process for having been there once myself, I knew, I remembered, I understood. To witness the transformation of a wounded soul, I witnessed the beginning of their healing. I received their joy and sorrows. I cried when they cried. I felt honored to be the listener and offered experiences of my own and enjoyed watching each person grow.

At home time went on and I started to fit my creative self in again. I began doing graphics and creating jewelry. I started to paint and even recently started to throw on a wheel again.  Through the darkest times I struggled with how to feel true joy and happiness. The ability to start peeling away at the garbage that held me back,  to feel as though I have emerged a better person, friend, mom, and wife.   I believe this all became possible with my attendance of a HWHV retreat.  

When I was asked to paint the trees for each HWHV group, I don't really remember how I felt about it, other then, being excited to give back. Until I started talking to each one, interviewing them and understanding why they chose that particular tree. The resilience of how they survived their unimaginable stories.  Each one individually sculpted into its unique form.  Representing its individualized strength and beauty. 

For years I didn't feel confident in my abilities to put my art out here. Which to me is a silly considering all the moves, all the friends, all the jobs, all the plans I've dropped, and missed. While we were making, all the friends, all the plans, and adventures together without realizing it.  I am so glad I've been able to put the struggles behind before I am too old to enjoy and embrace how I became who I am today.  A better mom, a better wife and a better friend then I ever thought possible.  

I am braver then I ever thought I could/would be.

Victoria Diehl Holm is an artist and military wife. For more information or to learn more about Vicki, check out her blog at: http://vdhgrafx.blogspot.com

Heather is a Marine Widow and a Navy Wife.   She is an Ambassador for the EOD Warrior Foundation, and is also a drug and alcohol counselor in California.   She will listen with an open heart and then she will hug you and you know she means it. She may also dance at any given moment because life is too short not to have fun.


​I am a Marine Widow and a Navy wife and I have a confession to make. 

I grew up in a small New England town.  There were Memorial Day parades and
celebrations but other than my Great Uncles, a distant Cousin and my Paternal
Grandfather who was gone when I was young, Not many of my family were in the
service.  I don't think I understood the true meaning of Memorial Day until I moved
to California after 2001. 

Living in Southern California you are surrounded by a large number of military
bases and activities and I began to understand the true reverence of this day. 

Then in 2005 I married a Marine and it was so apparent the concepts I had missed
out on.  No one is at fault for this; life just changes when you marry or are related to
the Military or have a Veteran in your life. We paid our respects on this day and
often hung out with friends.

Then came 2012....

My husband was killed by an IED while serving overseas.  My world was shattered.  I
was overcome with grief, confusion and anger. 

Then a month later it was Memorial Day.  I was invited to the local Veterans
Cemetery (where he is now buried). I went and was honored to have the speaking
Generals wife sit and hold my hand.  I was however simply confused, overwhelmed
and exhausted.  There were so many people and while I was so appreciative of their
attendance at this event I found myself wondering why I didn't feel this military
support from the public while my husband was alive.  I went home knowing I very
obviously had some things to work through.

Enter 2014.  People started posting reminders of what this day off from work was
actually about.  I shared a few hoping to help educate people.  However as people
share their photos of beach days and barbecues I just found myself angry and logged
out.  My closest friend who was a Veteran and Wounded Warrior kept my feelings in
check and saved me from imploding. He was always good at that and his influence
changed my life.

Enter 2015.  I decided very purposely to breathe.  This was the worst year of all. 
Now it was not just my husband.  The close friend I spoke of above was also in
heaven due to complications from his injuries received in war.  I was beyond lost. I
was angry and I needed this day to be over so the pain would stop. I posted
reminders about what the day was about and asked my friends to have a moment of
silence for the fallen.  Then I cried like I had not in some time. 

Enter 2016.  Life is so very different. J and D are both gone and my heart will always
have a hole where they should be.  I have however remarried. I was lucky enough to
meet an amazing man who is Military himself and he supports me in my work with
the EOD Warrior Foundation and visits the cemetery with me to visit J.  I know I am
blessed by this.  The Internet reminders of what the day is for have started and I
have shared a few.  But this year I find myself truly wanting to educate the masses
on Memorial Day.  Yes you can get a great price on a grill and have a day off from
work and hit the beach but there are men and women who sacrificed all to give you
this right.

I look back to the greatest generation.  They fought with honor, lost more service
members than any other war and came home heroes.  These men and women still
take part in all service remembrance activities along side their families.

Why are we not standing with them in mass? Many do but many do not.  How do we
teach our generation and our children how important this day is? 

It is simple.  Stand up and speak. Tell your family, friends and children why they
have this day off and take a moment of silence for all those that gave you the right to
have a celebration free of fear.

In 2012 a close friend from high school posted a photo of her very young daughter
painting an American flag that had our names on it.  She discussed how she is too
young to understand now. But as she grows up she will be taught what Memorial
Day means.  I love that picture and my friend.  It gives me hope.  Hope that we can
raise the next great generation that serves with pride and gives reverence to those
who serve and fall.

This Memorial Day I will be home in reverence.  The cemetery is just too crowded
for me.  I will remember.  I will tell stories and I will honestly cry. 

Can I ask this?   Have your party, beach day or barbecue but could you take 5
minutes to talk about what Memorial Day means.  Teach your children, educate
other family members or friends because that is all the families of the fallen desire. 

To have their loved ones remembered on the day that was meant for them.
In Remembrance on Memorial Day.

~~Heather Fankhauser Evans

Below I share the video of Joseph’s Final Homecoming to Dover AFB. While this was
the hardest day I have ever endured, I can also stand back now and look at the
Tradition and Reverence in the way we treat our Fallen Service Members. This
video was from a day of sadness that I now see also contains beauty and respect.