Rob Yllescas and "The Small Things"

Sometimes when we experience personal tragedy or setbacks in our lives, we have a tendency to put on our “blinders” and miss the small “little things” that allow us to experience joy in our lives. Often the newness of a tragedy makes us emotionally unprepared to experience joy for a period of time, and I believe that this is normal and sometimes appropriate. With our recent experiences in the loss of our dear friend Rob and the unexpected diagnosis of a genetic disorder in my pregnancy with Emma, we have had to look hard sometimes to notice the small things that are provided in our lives as a means to separate us from our grief. Sometimes these are obvious, other times they are not. We don’t intend to make light of our experiences with Emma’s medical concerns, or reduce our visits to the specialist in Topeka to a discussion of pancakes and syrup. However, sometimes we have literally received absolutely no good news and left the office in tears, and the ONLY positive thing we can draw from the experience is eating good pancakes and syrup.

I had an experience over the past week that has reminded me of the importance of recognizing the “little things” that are present in our lives to alleviate pain, as long as we are open to the experience. My experience hinges on our friend, Rob Yllescas who passed away in December after being wounded in Afghanistan in October of this past year. Rob was a dear friend, and Tim and I consider he and his wife, Dena, to be in our circle of “Army next-of-kin.” If we could choose our family, we would choose the Yllescases. Anyway, in order to understand the significance of my experience this week, I will relate some good memories that I have of Rob.

I was deployed to Iraq with Rob and Tim in 2005. Rob was a very capable officer who was given a variety of tough tasks that often required him to be “outside the wire” and in harm’s way. Rob and I would often meet up in the DFAC, usually at breakfast and talk about all sorts of things. The DFAC usually had several televisions playing the news and the beloved AFN commercials. One of these commercials depicted a bunch of people walking peacefully on beaches and connecting in a bunch of very cheesy ways. It was an advertisement for some peace organization, which was a little unusual since most commercials created on AFN are Army-sponsored and remind us of important things like wearing helmets on motorcycles (in Iraq). Anyway, the theme song for this commercial was just as cheesy as the scenes it depicted. I do not know the name of the song or who sings it, but I believe it came out in the 80’s. So, cue 80’s music:

“And we can build this dream together, standing here forever,
Nothing’s gonna stop us now…
And when this world runs out of lovers, we’ll still have each other,
Nothing’s gonna stop us now….”

Anyway, whether he wanted to admit it or not, Rob was obviously familiar with this song. There were a few times when it came on that he would sing it at an uncomfortably loud volume, sometimes grabbing my shoulders or pretending to wave an imaginary cigarette lighter. This song played in the DFAC a lot, but usually Rob gave this reaction after a long day (or night) when he needed to lighten the mood. He had a way of bringing humor to difficult situations and making the mood lighter. This was one of the best qualities I remember about him.
Anyway, to appreciate the humor and irony of this situation, it needs to be considered in its context: Here we are, in Iraq, and Rob is sitting at the table recounting the latest firefight or IED explosion that he inexplicably walked away from. (I used to think Rob Yllescas was the luckiest Soldiers alive after some of his experiences). We are surrounded by violence on a daily basis and are discussing Rob’s personal experiences when our conversation is interrupted by an overly cheesy peace commercial that suggests that we should all just hold hands and sing “Kumbaya.” Pretty ironic, but you probably had to be there.

Anyway, after Rob was hurt in October, this small experience has stuck in my mind as a memory of Rob that still bring s smile to my face. It was so small and insignificant that I doubt Rob would even remember doing it if asked about it when we returned in 2006. I think the reason it sticks out in my mind is because it is a good illustration of one of Rob’s strengths, which was his ability to put experiences into perspective and draw out humor.

I focused on this memory as I prayed for Rob’s recovery in October and November and later went to his funeral in December. For the LIFE OF ME, I could not recall the song that goes with the memory. This has been something that has annoyed me for four and half months, until I heard the song playing in an adjacent office last week. As soon as I heard it, the memories came flooding back and it brought a smile to my face (literally). I was so excited to finally recall the song that has been nagging me for months that I wrote it down on a little sticky note. There have been several times this last week that that little sticky note has managed to get stuck to half a million things. Each time I would pull it off of a stack of paperwork, I would recall Rob and his sense of perspective and humor. It always brought a smile to my face. It s no secret that the last few months have been a very trying time in our lives, but I am grateful for this very small opportunity to appreciate some of the blessings we have received in our lives. One of these blessings is Rob Yllescas. Whereas we are definitely still grieving for him and bearing the pain of his loss, I am still glad that we had the opportunity to experience his friendship. I am disappointed that our time with him was cut short, but I am grateful for the memories and life lessons that he gave to us. We will carry those with us forever. Rob never got to hear the news or our initial excitement about our pregnancy or hear about our grief over the miscarriage. However, I still feel his presence in our lives, even if it is through memories.

This very small experience would have been very easy to ignore without an open mind. It would have been easy to forget the memory in the DFAC or overlook the significance of the continuous re-appearance of the sticky note. It is a reminder that it is important to keep an open mind an focus on the positive blessings of our lives, however small they may seem sometimes. I initially wrote the sticky note so that I could commit the song to my memory. This week, I finally disposed of the sticky note and chose to commit the experience and lesson to my memory.