Grieving Community: Starting Over with Connection and Trust

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Grieving Community: Starting Over with Connection and Trust
By Crystal Bettenhausen-Bubulka, LCSW, MSG

As military spouses, we are no strangers to loss. But just as much as we lose, we gain. We are in a constant game of hide and seek—only it's more like loss and go seek. Our families say "hello" and "goodbye" more than most people will ever experience. As I often tell my three girls, we don't even know who will love us yet. This might be one of military life's most unexpected and appreciated parts. We meet new people, form connections, and forge relationships through shared sacrifice and service.

However, with those gains come losses. There's a deep sorrow when a trusted neighbor packs up and moves across the world, or grief when we switch units or commands and start over with new colleagues. The overwhelming feeling of leaving everything behind and rebuilding an entire life is often indescribable.

Lately, I've been reflecting on community, the power of connection, and the trust required for us to truly belong. It's not just the grief of what we've lost that impacts our social and emotional health, but also the challenge of finding well-being after loss. I was recently talking with my spouse about how well our kids were doing at school, feeling part of the community, challenged, and growing because of the investment from their teachers and coaches. Shortly after, an unexpected event rattled us, forcing us to grieve. We questioned what went wrong, and began to explore how we could grow from the experience.

A situation from nearly ten years ago suddenly resurfaced, triggered by recent events. Though not a core memory, it felt like I had hit the jackpot—I realized what I'd been missing all these years: connection and trust.

Ten years ago, my spouse was deployed in the Middle East, while our family was in San Diego. I was working as a hospice social worker, often on the road. One day, a light on my dashboard came on, and I had to stop by the dealership for a loaner car. The process took longer than expected, so I called the childcare center to let them know I'd be late. We were already strapped for childcare costs, and every minute late cost us more. The receptionist reassured me to drive safely.

When I arrived a few minutes past 6:00 p.m., I rushed to pick up our two-year-old, eager to head to the after-school program for our older child. As I was leaving, one of the staff members stopped me and asked, "Did you swap out the car seats?" I froze. I had forgotten entirely. For a split second, I considered lying—the house was just a block away, no harm, right? But instead, I admitted I had forgotten. She commended me for being honest and told me that she would have had to call child services if I had left without the proper car seat. Then, she kindly watched my daughter while I went home to get a spare car seat—no charge.

I barely made it to the car before tears welled up. That woman had saved me from making a huge mistake, and in doing so, reminded me of the power of compassion and community. I hadn’t thought about that memory for a decade, but it suddenly became clear how much I had been grieving the sense of trust and connection that once existed in my community.

Later that week, I shared the story with my spouse, and we both wondered how we could reinvest in our current community. We decided to be proactive in fostering connection: chatting with neighborhood kids, helping with after-school pick-ups, and inviting new families for marshmallow roasting. We even started leaving handwritten notes for new neighbors, welcoming them and offering support.

These small acts go a long way toward building trust and connection, which can offer a sense of control in a chaotic military life. Grieving the loss of community allowed me to reflect and realize that what our family needed was more connection and trust—and that we had the power to make that happen, one handwritten note at a time.

If this article resonates with you and you’d like to learn more about social health and embracing antifragility as a military spouse, connect with and follow us on Instagram at @strengthinserviceorg. Together, we can build a more connected and curious community of support that encourages social health.

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