American Wife (38 page)

Their purity of spirit inspires me and gives me hope.

I
f you've read this far in hopes of finding an aha! moment where my grieving ended and the light of God shone down on me—sorry. Life doesn't work that way. At least mine doesn't.

I haven't found complete peace, nor have I stopped grieving.

I have gotten to the point where I am not paralyzed by depression. I have gotten to a place where I can recognize my blessings and thank God for them, where I can look toward the future as a bright place, not one filled with dark dread

My faith, as I have said, sustains me. The knowledge that one day I will be reunited with Chris gives me hope.

My children give me sustenance; my difficulties give me strength to persevere.

THE MURDER TRIAL

Months before Chris's alleged murderer was to go on trial, I sat in the prosecutor's office and listened to him talk about the case. He got off on a tangent at one point, speaking about the motives of most murders.

“They happen because someone wants something the other person has,” he generalized.

This isn't always money or even material goods. Cain killed Abel because he was jealous of Abel's standing with God. He wanted it, but of course he couldn't have it.

Not long after Chris died, a national magazine published a story comparing his life with that of the man accused of killing him. There are some parallels; they both grew up in Texas. But the article skimped on the differences. Look at the decisions they made, look at what they did with their lives, look at the responsibilities they took on—or shirked.

Chris saw a great deal of combat. He never made excuses for his behavior. He didn't always do the right thing, but he tried to do the right thing by others. Chris got the good grace, as Abel did, not by his birthright but by his effort.

As I sat listening to the prosecutor, I thought his parallel extended through Chris's life—not solely to the man who shot him, but to the haters, to the people who ended up in legal disputes with him or his estate, for whatever reason. They all wanted something he had.

Not money, but authenticity. Real achievements. Soul.

Grace.

And of course that's the one thing you can't take from someone else, even if you steal his life.

Chris became famous without wanting to. Opportunities that others had to fight and claw for seemed to fall in his lap. But most of all, people just liked him for being who he was, with seemingly no effort on his part at all.

Of course, there was effort, and there was great struggle. He had to persevere—the Navy didn't want him at all when he first tried to enlist. But people don't see that part. They don't see the long days at BUD/S, or the pain of leaving your family. Nor do they logically analyze what toll the achievements take.

I don't want to sound like a Bible thumper, much less pretend that I have all the answers or am somehow an expert on faith. I have my own personal relationship with God, and I suspect everyone must find his or her own way to their faith.

I don't think I ever really believed that there was a devil in a literal sense. You know: the guy with horns and a pitchfork.

During a break in the Jesse trial, a friend argued that I was wrong—there is a lot of evil in the world, and while maybe the devil isn't exactly the way he's pictured in old books and B-grade movies, he is active and fighting on the side of evil.

“If you are a good person,” she said, “you're going to get caught up in those battles. You have to fight.”

“Maybe I should tell old Satan to back up his Evil Truck, load it up, and get the heck out of here,” I joked.

“Tell him,” she said, dead serious. “Live the good. Fight the battle.”

Maybe my metaphor was silly, but I think she was right: those of us who believe in the good must battle evil. Those of us who believe in doing the right thing, who believe that God, not evil, should rule our lives, have to put those beliefs into practice.

It's not enough to simply avoid sin. We have to do good. And we have to go out of our way to do good.

Chris was a warrior on the battlefield, but he was also a fighter in everyday life—he fought to help veterans, and he fought to keep the kids and me safe and happy.

There's a strong amount of faith in that, a powerful brand. It's one I believe in.

When things are most difficult, I close my eyes and picture Jesus next to me. It calms me and restores my strength to fight on.

Someone asked me whether I thought grief was a kind of punishment for life.

“Of course not.” I was adamant. “No.”

But then I thought a little bit more as we talked. In some ways, I had seen it as a punishment. Or maybe I just punished myself if I started feeling too good: How can you feel good! Chris is dead! You have no right to feel good!

Now, my reaction is more complicated. I can't say that
all
of the guilt is gone. But there's a lot less. And I can reassure myself that Chris wouldn't have wanted me to feel pain.

CHRIS KYLE FROG FOUNDATION

After a great deal of hard work, on November 11, 2014, we were finally able to announce the foundation. Here is the press release we sent out:

HELLO FRIENDS,

I can't think of a better day than Veterans Day to be able to make this announcement!

In the past year and 9 months since Chris was taken from us, I have worked with a single goal in mind: to keep his legacy of service to God, family and country alive, I am passionate about serving the families who serve our country so heroically. Today, I am humbled, honored, and thrilled to announce the launch of the Chris Kyle Frog Foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to serving military and first responder families. Our goal is to provide experiences helping families reconnect after deployments, military involvement, and time spent serving those in crisis here at home. We will help couples create the new common ground they need to build a future together after the trauma of time apart. Our vision is to create a country of connected and thriving service members and first responder families.

My vision for CKF Foundation grew out of the common experiences all military and first responder families go through. Chris and I loved each other with all our hearts, and his deployments put a terrible strain on our marriage. Each time he came home, we each had to adjust to knowing another layer of our spouse. We had to adjust to the roles the other had taken on in our time apart and figure out how to manage them back into a working family structure until the next deployment. It was hard.

When Chris was home from deployments, he often had to go on training trips. On one rare occasion he had a couple of days off from work during a training trip. My mom offered to buy me a plane ticket to go spend two days with him while she watched our kids. It was something we couldn't afford at the time, and it was such a blessing. Escaping the stresses of everyday life—even for just a few days—let us reconnect and feel everything we loved about each other. It was stronger than anything that could ever tear us apart. It gave us new energy in our relationship, and strength to handle the challenges ahead.

Chris and I both believed in paying it forward, and we wanted to give this same opportunity to the other families in our community—first responder and military families. They serve bravely, but are struggling on the home front.

We know there is a real need that isn't being met. Right now, these American families are paying a huge price. Nearly three in four married veterans are likely to have had family problems after a deployment, and half say deployments have had a negative effect on their marriage. Divorce rates of over 80 percent in both groups affect not just the couple but the children too. These families don't need handouts; they need hand-ups—just an opportunity to find their feet, to reconnect with those roots of committed love and support that gave them the strength to serve so proudly in the first place. We want to treat them to experiences that will make finding the way home a little bit easier and help to build the resilience needed to continue in service to this country.

In the coming weeks, we'll be launching our website and sharing more details about opportunities to support the Chris Kyle Frog Foundation. We've filed for 501(c)(3) status, and will be announcing a series of events around the country to spread the word about our mission. With your help, the Chris Kyle Frog Foundation will be a one-of-a-kind force for good, celebrating core values of loyalty, empowerment, integrity and excellence, and honoring God and family for our country. We know we can make a real difference in the lives of so many families.

Chris and I, together, believed in this so strongly. There aren't words enough to say what it means to me to have the opportunity to bring our vision to life. His spirit, our marriage, and the challenges and triumphs of our friends are all guiding us.

We've been blessed by the support of so many. Thank you, to everyone who has generously blessed our family in your own unique way. Every one of you played a part in this foundation. You all allowed us the time and resources to make this day a reality. I can't thank you enough and I cannot wait to see what the future holds!

GOD BLESS,

TAYA KYLE

I want people to know that this isn't Taya Kyle's foundation, or even Chris Kyle's. It's been made possible by the book and everyone who's donated money to us, by all the friends and veterans who showered Chris with love, and by everyone who has offered support in any way. I want people to know that I couldn't do it without them.

We're just starting as I write this, but already we're involved in some exciting projects. We're partnering with Boot Campaign to raise $500,000 to help musician Zac Brown add an Outward Bound–style leadership-building obstacle course and recreation area to his facility in Georgia. While the primary focus of the facility will be helping children using an already-built equestrian and aquatic center, we will be able to use it as a retreat area for spouses as well.

We're also planning marriage retreats, something a little more meaningful and hopefully longer lasting than simple vacations away from the kids—though those are important, too.

Years from now, if I can look back and say that what I went through ended up helping other people, then I'll feel as if I succeeded.

HOW TO GRIEVE

If I were to give a friend advice on how to grieve, the first thing I would say is:
There's no right way. There's no secret formula when grieving.

I know how to stumble forward, crawling more than walking, moving through mud, climbing from the bottom of a pit, and struggling every day to keep moving.

I know the comfort of holding other people's hands. I know how to make my children a priority, not just for their sakes, but for mine. I know how to have fun, or at least do a dang good job of faking it. I know how to pray, which for me is probably the most important thing.

But if there's no right way to experience loss, there is no wrong way, either. As my friend Kelly said to me, “Time does have a way of stealing the pain from you.” And as my brother-in-law Jeff said, “It doesn't really get better, but you do learn to live with it.”

It can be difficult to remember, but God doesn't leave you in your pain. You're not being punished. Faith is not the only support, but it can be a powerful one.

For me, God, my family, and my friends have all been critical. But another thing that has helped has been the idea that, through the Chris Kyle Frog Foundation and through my speaking engagements, I may be able to help others. Focusing on the potential for good in a large way liberates me from the evil that I have experienced.

I don't know if that will work for everyone. But I do know it's important, whether you're grieving or not, to reach out beyond yourself and connect to a higher purpose.

I'm grateful for all the things I have that remind me of Chris—photos, videos, notes and emails he wrote, tangible pieces of him. We're blessed to have them, just as we are blessed to have his memory.

But I also know that sometimes those reminders can hurt, and not just me.

When we were preparing to move into the new house, Angel mentioned to me that she wouldn't mind having fewer pictures of Daddy in the hall.

“I love seeing him,” she confessed, “but sometimes they hurt.”

I know exactly what she meant. I love looking at them too, but sometimes I can't take the emotions they provoke. And I know, too, that there's a difference between building on the past and getting stuck in it.

I love that wedding photo of us because we're both looking off into the future. And that was Chris. That was the essential part of him: fearless and hopeful, always moving forward.

That's the part of him that I hold most dear, and that's the part of him that I struggle to bring with me every day: fearless and courageous, ready for anything, striding toward tomorrow, and tomorrow's tomorrow.