“That's just what it felt like,” she said.
She decided to swim.
But now it's been a full three years and still the war rages, still Saltz swims, trying to keep her head above the waves of grief that at time threaten to pull her under. Her son, Edward Matthew Saltz, an Army first lieutenant in life, a captain posthumously, died Dec. 22, 2003, a roadside bomb ripping through his Humvee not far from Baghdad.
He was 27, and was the first Montana soldier to die in the war in Iraq.
And still Saltz swims.
“It's been a little bit of a roller coaster this past couple years,” admits Dick Saltz, who with wife Cathy has been afloat in that ocean of grief.
“Grief is different than anything else,” she said. “It's the one emotional experience no one tells you how to deal with. No one wants to touch it.”
Well, almost no one.
The Saltz family, Cathy in particular, has been on a quest these past few years, on “a journey to figure out what to do with all these feelings.”
Some mothers retreat, sinking into deep despair, she said. Some take indignation as their shroud, camping out on the president's lawn.
And some, like Cathy Saltz, reach up and out to fully own the grief and make it theirs, turning it, they hope, into something brighter. Anything less, she said, would dishonor Matt's sacrifice.
Saltz has been working with Families United for our Troops, a support group founded by an Iraq war veteran from Iowa. She's made contact with every Montana mother who has lost a son to the war.
She's visited families of the dead bravely and boldly. “Some are so glad you called, and some just aren't able to talk about it,” she said. “There's a variety of feelings about the war. Mostly, people hate war. People hate death. But we support the president.”
Saltz doesn't like to talk politics. There's simply too much there she can't control, and it leaves her feeling hollow, “with a huge feeling of helplessness. Washington, D.C., is too far away.”
So she sticks closer to home, closer to the heart.
No matter the politics of a grieving mother, “I can understand her hurt.”
She also can understand the importance of support and encouragement, because her family's been on the receiving end.
“The majority of our experience has been very positive,” Dick Saltz said. “We're still receiving condolences and mementos, you know, just helping us work through this.”
Sure, some have tried to co-opt the soldiers' sacrifices in their opposition to the war, “but we've said don't put our son's name on a cross,” Dick said. “Our stance is, his name shouldn't really be public domain. There's a lot of privacy involved as far as we're concerned.”
And so they move ahead, quietly, privately, in their personal exploration of grief.
Cathy and Dick visited the stillness of Arlington Cemetery recently, an especially moving journey for her husband, who is a veteran of the war in Vietnam.
The couple also joined TAPS (Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors), a group that works with the blessing of the Department of Veterans Affairs to help military families cope with loss. It's not only for mothers who have lost sons at war, she said, but also for any military family dealing with any kind of death.
“It's particularly good for the kids.”
And in the past couple of months, Cathy Saltz has finally gone from swimming to surfing, using the Internet to connect with a network of resources, all aimed at unraveling her emotions.
“I'm becoming an expert on grief,” she said. “You kind of have to. It's a long process.”
As is the war that claimed her son. This weekend marks three years since troops in this campaign first invaded Iraqi soil, and much remains to be done.
“I expected that,” Saltz said. “I said to Dick right away, ‘This is going to be a five-year deal, at least. It's going to be just like Vietnam, mark my words.' ”
But when she compares the war in Iraq to the war in Vietnam, it is not disparagingly. Her husband fought in Vietnam. Her son died in Iraq.
“If you're going to be a citizen of a country,” she said, “there are certain responsibilities and duties you have to own up to. Duty is important.”
The only end for Iraq, she said, “is for them to be a democratic people.” Anything less would be cheating Matt and all the others.
“Matt was convinced of the importance of the work being done in Iraq,” Cathy said, and so are his parents.
“He saw the terrific cost of a dictatorship,” she said. “He could imagine something better.”
Imagining, finally, is what has kept her afloat since being dropped into that bottomless ocean in December 2003.
“That's what you have to do,” she said. “You have to imagine peace. That's how our country was established. By people who could imagine freedom and peace.”
Neither of which come cheap, or quickly, or without a terrible price.
“It's going to take a lot of time to help them come out of it over there,” Dick said. “A long, long time. It's like Matt said, ‘Saddam really did a number on those people, and this isn't going to be easy.' ”
War isn't easy. Not for America, and surely not for the Saltz family.
Thus this piece of advice from Cathy Saltz: “Don't be afraid to live your life, because bad things happen to people all the time. That's the way life is - it changes in a heartbeat, and you have to change with it if you're going to survive.”
Can she survive?
“Oh you bet. Absolutely.”
Reporter Michael Jamison can be reached at (800) 366-7186 or at mjamison@missoulian.com
|
 |
 |
Add your comment now! Write your comment in the form below.
(Email address is for verification only. If you'd like to email a story, look for the link above)