When Kale returned with his unit to his base at Ft. Carson I was broken hearted to not be able to attend the welcome party. We waited anxiously to have him come home for a visit, which our family was now to be found in Arizona again! Kale came home in November. One day I had a knock at the door, I was the only one home; kids at school, dad at work. I looked out the peep hole, and it was covered. Alarmed I said, "whoever you are, I am not opening the door!" He said, "mom, it's me!" Always wanting to "surprise" us, he kept it a secret. I was so happy to hug my boy again. He wanted to surprise his brother and sister at the high school. Something Megan had told me explicitly to never let him do. We drove to the school, called them each into the office, not knowing why, out stepped brother and the hugs and tears from the kids, and secretaries and me just flowed. He loved that. Our visit with him was too brief, he headed back to his base. This was the last time I saw him alive. We talked over the next month or so what was next coming up for him. He was going to transfer to a new base, Ft. Drum in New York. His next deployment would be Afghanistan, probably by August. I was so worried for that one, it just felt worse to me. One of the young soldiers we knew in Washington, that was a friend of Jessica's, did not make it back from there, killed a few weeks before his return home. I felt like I have this precious window of time that he is home, safe, out of harm's way. (This picture was Kale surprising sister, Meg at school.)
The week of February 13th most all of us in the family had talked to Kale, we talked to him as often as we could. He loved to call, even if for just a second to say "hi mom" "hi dad". He talked to dad the most, they were good friends. Even though dad had to be tough on Kale over the years, Kale always knew dad loved him and it was for his own good. During his deployment we never knew what time those calls would come, Iraq time was opposite ours. Nothing would tear me up more than to miss his call. Sometimes, those calls he would whisper, quiet and say he was somewhere he shouldn't be, sneaking in to find a phone to call home with. I wish I could have known that call to him on Thursday was my last; I would have memorized every word, every detail, but I never would have let him go. I know he told me about a tattoo on his shoulder he had just gotten with his battle buddy Mike, to commemorate their security detail they had together in Iraq. I did not approve of tattoo's, but I am so glad I never voiced that to him.
He told me he had getting enrolled in his college classes that he was so wanting to pursue his education. This was a big draw for him to join the Army in the first place. He was hard at work to his next rank of sergeant. I told him I loved him. The last time I heard my son's voice. So even though I had just spoke to him the day before, when I woke up Saturday, he was on my mind. It was the first thing I did was to call him. His phone just went to voice mail. My son, was already dead.
That evening, Saturday, it was a rare quiet night for us. Tiffany was living in Washington, Kassy in Virginia, Brian was living in Gibert; close by us. The other 4 at home, were out with friends, all had plans for the evening. So date night for us was the remote and the tv. At 9pm, a knock at the door. Something to me felt off, but the knock wasn't unusual in and of itself as the kids often had someone coming over to visit. I hear Mark speak to someone on the porch, voices, the next moment, as if it all went in slow motion from there, 2 uniformed soldiers walk into my living room. Instantly, I knew, I knew Kale was gone. Confused, how, why? He isn't deployed. I feared this visit every day for a year while he was gone. The fears I had as Kale was a teenage, his depression problem, I thought, "maybe he has finally don't it. " The soldier closest to me, not sure how to begin, asked me how I was doing? I looked him in the eye and said "I don't know, you tell me how I 'm doing." He then began his fateful speech, "we regret to inform you that your son, Kale Daren Clay has been killed." I remember crying out "No, not my son!, not Kale!, not my baby!." I went to my room, grabbed my Kale bear, and hugged it tight. I had one stuffed at Build a Bear before he went to basic training knowing that sometimes if I missed him, even a bear hug would be a surrogate for his. I also grabbed a very small picture frame I kept of him as a little boy, blond hair, curling at the ends. My two objects represented the man he was, the soldier, but also my baby. They didn't leave my hands for days. We were told little details, there had been a crash, drinking was involved. After the soldiers left, giving my husband their information, we clung to each other, cried, tried to absorb this information. I was so glad the kids were all out, we could just deal with this for a moment ourselves, I didn't have to worry about the kids just yet and how we would have to help them cope. We realized though, we now had to start making calls, and thankfully Mark was able to take this horrific job on. We called Tiffany's landlord/friend first. We were so worried about how she would take this news. Her mental health had been so fragile. She had been in and out of hospitals, suicidal for years. Kassy was called next. To hear the screams through the phone as dad called Tiffany and Kassy just was beyond description. We could not be with each one to comfort or hold them. To see how they were taking this. The kids had each been called, being told to "come home, NOW." As each of the kids walked in the house, seeing the chaos, hearing the words each, that their brother was dead, you just cannot know how hard this was to see each one break down, crumble, their world blown apart. We ached, wept along with them. Saying the words, hearing them echoed again and again, it just didn't seem real. It still doesn't.
I didn't sleep all night, numb, I combed the internet for any details of the crash. I found a memorial website and built the site that I knew we would want to record while fresh any memory or detail that now each piece was so precious to us. That site is kale-clay.memory-of.com
Some of the details came in the days that followed, also killed in the crash was PFC Pawell Serafin, age 28. He was a new soldier to their unit. The driver was a friend of Kale's, had deployed with him, Jordan Peters. He was injured and hospitalized. We learned that the 3 of them had gone out that night, drinking at a bar, and then drove to a friends house where the guys slept for a bit. At some point, 4:30-5:00 Pawell woke up Kale, and they got in the car, Peters was passed out in it as well. There was some controversy about who was behind the wheel, Pawell or Peters. But when Peters did wake up, he made sure that he was driving his car. He wouldn't ever let anyone else drive it. They drove up a hill, 8 miles passed post. Some say, he was so drunk, he just missed the turn off. He was driving too fast, and veered into the oncoming traffic lane, only one person on the road in those early morning hours, an older man in a Ford 350 utility truck on his way to work. Kale's side of the car received full impact of this truck, and he died instantly. Pawell was not buckled in. They said he still probably would not have survived the crash even if he had, but it made void his life insurance policy; his family would not receive it because soldiers are expected to follow safety procedures. Kale had his on, but this did not save him. The airbag did not. In court martial trial later the defense tried to say that was what killed Kale was Pawell's body; flying through the car. Yes, it was one of his instant death injuries of the 3 he had sustained. Wondering about the moments before he died, did he know what was coming, did he feel pain, how broken and hurt his body was would tear my soul apart if I even thought for more than a moment on this.
We had a casualty officer assigned to our family. Dan was in charge of walking us through this nightmare. Helping us to sign the many documents, letting us know what decision we needed to make was. He was our angel. He was so respectful and strong. Some of the decisions were metal or wood casket? Metal. He would be buried in his class A uniform. The most happiest day of our memories with Kale, family day, he would now be buried in them. Since he was traveling through from Colorado to Arizona, his body needed to be embalmed. No decision for that. He brought us Kale's personal effects within a few days, his phone. Broken. His wallet, with family pictures stained in his blood. Two $5.00 bills. A card for alcohol and substance abuse in it. It told me he knew he had a problem, but for him, time ran out.
I feel I was given a blessing, a gift, that from the very outset of being told of the crash, I did not feel anger, hatred, bitterness to Jordan Peters. I was only very concerned for him. I tracked down information of where he was hospitalized, found out who is mother was and her phone number and called her. We two mothers, were both so broken hearted and shared our pain together. I asked her to kiss her son's forehead for me, because I could not do that for mine. I knew somehow, he was going to have to live with the knowledge that his actions had taken two lives. I know if it had been Kale, that was responsible, he would not be able to live with that.
The day came for his body to arrive at the Phoenix airport. Our son was coming home. Dan got us to the plane and was met with a soldier, who had escorted his body from Colorado. He had known Kale, this was personal. He stood at attention, saluting while the flag draped coffin emerged from the belly of the plane. The sergeants hand was just shaking, he was trying so hard to keep it together. I wanted to just hug him. The Patriot Guard Riders met and escorted us to the funeral way. These rough looking men and women on their motorcycles are a proud and patriotic bunch. It was a honor to have them help us during this difficult time. This was their brother too, they were helping to bring home.
We were told by the funeral director that we might not want a viewing. Kale's injuries were extensive. The kids wanted to see their brother, so we sent Mark in to see what he thought. He decided that we could handle this and so we went in to see him. I could scarcely recognize anything familiar about him. I remember how hard and cold his body felt through his uniform. We had our time with Kale, saying our goodbyes. I had brought a book I wanted to read one last time to my son, preparing him I think for his final sleep for his mortal body. It was from the book I had read to them often, "I will like you for always, I will love you forever, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be."
We had to shop for a place to bury Kale. How do you do that? We toured several cemeteries, looking for what seemed right. We liked Mariposa Gardens the most, but the kids didn't. Finally we had to pull the parent card and do what we felt was right. We could have had him buried at the military cemetery but that was over an hour away, but we wanted him as close to the family as possible. So even though it cost us more, this felt the most right.
I am so grateful I had kept some of Kale's calls saved to my cell phone, from while he was deployed. We were able to transfer them and one was recorded to Kale bear, which I carried through the funeral. We had a gathering of family and friends, some traveling great distance and effort to be with us. We were so touched by those who came so far to be with us. Max had been traveling home from his deployment in Afghanistan on an emergency medical leave. His momma, Beth, was terminal with cancer, which I don't know how but she felt well enough to travel with Max and come to be with us. So Becca had him to support her through this difficult time.It was a windy, day, the flags present by our guard supporters were blowing full out. The color guard ceremony, and a gun salute, and then being handed his flag, that had so sacredly been folded, followed by the words, "on behalf of a grateful nation…". We placed roses on his casket. His grave was prayed over and dedicated as a hallowed place for his mortal remains. When it was time to leave our son there, Jessica just could not leave her brother, she was holding on to the side of his casket, unable to let go of brother.
I spoke at my son's funeral, something I never thought I would have the strength to do. The kids helped plan and put together his funeral. Such heart felt words from the broken hearts Kale left behind. Kale's battle buddy, Mike and his family drove down to be with us as well and he spoke a eulogy for Kale. Our ward family took over for us, helping us with groceries, meals, planning the luncheon after the funeral. I had to go shopping a week after the funeral though, Mark was with me and it took us so long, agonizing over the smallest of decisions, we were in such a fog.
We had to close his bank accounts, end his final affairs to this life. Filing his taxes took me nearly 2 years to do, I kept putting it off, wondering why was this so hard to finalize, when Jessica reminded me, " because it is the last thing to do for him mom." Turns out that some low life, scum bag was committing identity fraud, and was trying to claim his tax refund, something very common among dead soldiers.
One of the things we needed to do was order a headstone. We had a temporary marker put in, I knew I would want it for a small memorial I would put up at home somewhere, and it would buy me some time to think about what his headstone should read. I had 2 lines of test, 27 characters to sum up my son. No words seemed right, finally after 7 months, the funeral home began to pressure me to finalize it. They had to order the permanent one from the military supplier for these. Lots of tears and frustration over this. If I liked it, the kids didn't and I wanted something we could all come together on. We finally agreed on something, but making the call to order this was 1 of 2 things I could not do, for Kale, it just seemed like that would make it real and I just couldn't bear to face that. Thankfully, Mark took this task from me.
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