​

I am an air force veteran, my husband is Armenian and a veteran of the original Armenian army from the 1990’s. 

I entered the air force after high school, was stationed in Armenia towards the end of their declaring independence from the Soviet Union. The US Air Force worked closely with the emerging Armenian armed forces, where I met my husband. I was trained as a linguist, he spoke very advanced English. We enjoyed each other’s conversation, whether in Russian or English. I speak English, Russian, Spanish, and French 

​

I was in Armenia for two years, my husband insisted I join him on holidays at his mother and father’s household. I truly saw the way life can be in an emerging country, but the kindest of the Armenian people resonated with me. Six months before I was set to go home, my husband proposed to me even though we had never been on a date, or kissed. I said yes, his mother was thrilled. We married at the end of my time in Armenia, I was stationed in London and worked there while he waited for his contract to end with the army. Three months later, he joined me in London and we lead a normal life with a normal relationship. We lived there for two years, my contract with the Air Force ended and we decided to stay in London, a place where neither of us had expectation or family, to build life with one each other. All together we lived there for nine years. We had our first daughter after one year, three years later Megan was born. Four years later we decided we wanted to raise our children in the United States. He had never seen the US, and wanted to bring his mother there for a better life. We found a beautiful house, packed up our young kids and moved. His mother was able to move into a house less than 15 minutes away less than a year later. My children got to know their grandmother, and we were happy. 

​

Denial and self blaming. I am remembering over and over all the mistakes I made as a mother, all the missed opportunities. I am blaming grieving over the loss of my daughter but also the loss of time to make up for my mistakes. I didn’t even realize they were mistakes until she was gone. Did I make her feel loved? Did she feel alone right before she died? Was she cold? I shouldn’t let my teenage daughter go for runs alone before daylight. What was I thinking? I was 

so proud of her dedication, it never occured to me that something could happen to her. A police officer came to my door...funny it was almost like a movie. Some cheesy scene from a world war two flick. She was less than a mile away from our front door… so they just walked to the address instead of calling. The driver called 911...they didn’t know her condition when they came to our door. But they wouldn’t let me see her. Then they told me. I never got to see her. My husband identified her. She’s got to walk back in that front door. 

​

Megan is a younger sister. Her older sister has been staying at home since Megan passed. It is nice to have her home, but we are lost. How do you sit at the family dinner table when you are missing your little girl? I keep apologizing to Megan’s older sister...for all the things I did wrong. For the hurt she’s going through...I am so helpless. I feel like I am wandering. I am not paying attention to my husband, our home, our dinners. I do what I can. It isn’t much. I am not going to work yet, I can’t imagine a time when I will feel ready to rejoin that office. 

​

When she was so young, she used to be so uncoordinated. Her father and I would play sports in the yard with the girls all the time. We pushed them to be better and try harder. She was in kiddie soccer, and she finally kicked that ball as hard as she could with a look on her face that made everyone laugh. She was so focused, nothing would keep her from that ball that day. She kicked it and it flew in the wrong direction, and she was so angry that her aim was off. But she was so focused, and so ready to be better, we were so proud. 

Every single time she got an injury was as scary as the last. She never minded the injuries, but she never realized that the wrong injury could jeopardize her entire future with soccer. 

​

We take a family photo every Christmas. In our pajamas on the couch. What will we do this year? 

​

I enjoy reading. I do it in most of my free time. I am a planner, an organiser, so I don’t have a lot of free time in a house with four people who constantly need help keeping things on track. I enjoy reading to my husband and my girls. I used to read them to sleep at night. I read the classics to my husband, and we talk about them together. 

Before children I was more controlling. My girls taught me that discipline is necessary, but you can’t control everything around you. There is no controlling little girls. They will do what they want, and it was my job to learn how to teach them to be strong. If I could reach that goal, they would be okay. I don’t think about my life before children often. They are my life, this house. I don’t look at the past...well now I do. I can’t stop thinking about all the wrong I did and mistakes I made. Did she feel loved? Did she know how much we loved her? 

​