Dearest Captain John L. Hallett III,
I am writing this to you as a way to deal with what has happened. I can't begin to express how sad I am to know that you are gone. I am sad for your parents and brothers. I am sad for your unit who lost their leader. I am heartbroken for your beautiful, strong, and passionate wife, Lisa. I know, without doubt, you were her first love. You were her priority. You were her rock. You are, and always will be, hers. I nearly fall to pieces every time I think of your three beautiful children. They look like you John. They all do. You will be dearly missed, forever. Your children have really missed out on a opportunity to know a wonderful Daddy who would have led by example about how to love, lead and support a family the way you did.
I have never personally known a soldier to deploy and not come home. I know this happens every day, but never to me. You have changed me John. What has happened to you, has changed me. I am changing the way I look at that soldier's face in the paper. He's not just a face, another soldier. He is a son, husband, father, friend. I used to think that thinking of every soldier like that, so personally, would make you never read the paper or watch the news, too depressing. But John, they are just as real, just as loved and just as gone as you are. Now, I really look into the eyes of those faces in the paper and wish they were here just as much as I wish that for you. I know, now, what a loss that is for the family and friends of that soldier. I'm sorry to all the other brave soldiers who I have passed too quickly over their stories, never really looked at their faces, and never felt that deep sense of thankfulness for their service. But I do now, John. Thank you for that change in me.
I have not been taking deployments seriously. I have taken for granted that every soldier that I know who has deployed, has come home safe to his family and friends. I have not been writing the letters, sending the pictures and mailing snacks the way I should have been. You have taught me that this is not something to put off. I have already written one letter to our friend, who is in Iraq, since your passing. I'm gathering addresses of our other friends who are deployed. I will send letters. I will send the packages. I will, from now on. I will not make the foolish assumption that everyone gets their happily-ever-after redeployment ceremony with flag-waving family, friends, and children. Not all soldiers get to hear the band play while they march their last formation with the brothers they made in that war zone.
I feel tremendously guilty. Guilt beyond measure. This is guilt I've been dealing with since we separated from the Army. In the Army, there is a deep sense of brotherhood...but there is a opposite and equal force behind the Army known as the Army Wife. As an Army Wife, you will do anything for another Army Wife. You know who she is, without knowing a thing about her. The only thing you really need to find out is if any of your friends from previous posts are friends with her...because it's very likely. When you leave the Army, John, there is guilt. There is guilt for leaving the team. There is guilt for leaving your brothers and sisters (soldiers and spouses) of the Army to fight the good fight without you. I feel like we have left you and Lisa to fight the fight. You gave all to the fight. It's like there's a part of me that feels responsible for that. If we had stayed in, maybe Matt would have been on your flank...for better or worse. It's like this, I feel guilty that Lisa has to deal with all this and I don't have to. I know you would never wish us to go through this, John, but I can't help but wonder if this would have been us if the Army had given us Lewis like we so desperately wanted. We would have been right there with you.
You were only deployed a short time and your unit only had command about 2 weeks before you gave all. You must have been so excited and filled with pride to be leading your men as the Company Commander. Matt never got the opportunity to be in command, and I know it's the highlight of a Captain's duties. I'm sure your leadership, paired with compassion, made you a strong commander. It's a shame that the Army has lost a strong and dedicated soldier like you.
However, it's even more tragic that your wife and children have lost the commander of their
family.
You have left a hole in Lisa's heart that will never be filled. Your precious, beautiful, innocent children will not remember what a wonderful Husband and Daddy that you were. They will never get to do all the father/son and father/daughter rights of passage that we all take for granted. You were a great Daddy and your children will know your love through Lisa. I was at your house many times when you would come home from a long day, or even an entire week out in the field. You would come through the door, kiss Lisa, take off those stinky boots and lay on the floor, ACUs, dirt and sweat, and play with Jackson. You would play with him until you literally feel asleep right there on the floor. You gave your family every last bit of energy that the Army let you go home with. At the end of a long, hot, dusty, sweaty day in Louisiana, you still managed to make your family your first priority.
I will never forget the look on your face when you introduced me to your second son, Bryce.
YOU were laying in the hospital bed holding a bundle of blankets while Lisa was making herself beautiful in the bathroom. Jackson was running laps around the hospital room with handfuls of crackers trailing behind. You had a cheesy grin on your face like you had been caught lounging around, but the light in your eyes was unmistakable. You loved being a Daddy. That was something that nobody could deny. You were a great Daddy, John.
You gave your wife beautiful children, a loving home, and memories that she will cherish all the days of her life. You are everything that Lisa ever wanted. You should feel very proud.
Sacrifice, Service, Courage and Love. These are the words that I think of when I remember you. You have sacrificed everything. Your service went beyond all of our expectations and desires, yet we know you gave your life for the love of Army and our great country. Courage to leave your warm, loving home to fight, knowing you may never come home. Love. Your lasting legacy.
Thank you, John. Your life has changed mine, for the better. I appreciate your service, sacrifice, courage and bravery. You will be missed, but never forgotten.
With Gratitude,
Tami
John, Bryce and Jackson Hallett
Bryce, John and Jackson
Jackson, John, Lisa (pregnant with Heidi Vi) and Bryce
John's deployment day
John in Afghanistan
Heidi Vi Hallett. She was born August 2, 2009, just 23 days before John died. He never got to meet her. I think this is the most heartbreaking. John never smelled the sweet scent of his only daughter, never will get to be the first man to give her a bouquet of flowers, or watch her grow to be just like her wonderful Mommy.
Dearest Heidi Vi,
Your Daddy loved you beyond measure. I know this is true because your Mommy and Daddy always talked about how much they wanted a baby girl. I met your parents just after they had your biggest brother, Jackson. Even then, they knew they wanted a baby girl. Just to tell you how much they wanted you, I knew your name long before you ever were. They always wanted their little Heidi Hallett, and here you are beautiful. I know you will make your Daddy very proud and know just how proud he was to be a Daddy to his little girl.
To all of you reading this, take this with you in your heart from now on. Remember these tears. Remember this sadness when you start to fight with your spouse, when your kids are driving you bonkers, and when you see a soldier's face in the paper or on the news.
