The Loose Ends of Love and Service

“Life’s not perfect. Some loose ends may never get trimmed and tidied.” — Hoda Kotb

When I first came across that quote, I felt it wrap around my heart. 

For the past two years, I have been dealing with government agencies, trying to secure property tax relief, benefits my late husband earned because of his military service. It has been a tedious process: piles of paperwork, long waits, countless phone calls, and explanations repeated time and again. Yet amid all that frustrating bureaucracy, I uncovered a story I never fully knew—the story of my husband’s life before me.

Steve McGue attended the U.S. Military Academy at Westpoint in the late 1960s. After graduation, he chose Infantry as his branch of service, completed parachute and Army Ranger training, and joined the elite Special Forces. He served two tours in Vietnam as an officer and was honorably discharged after completing his five-year service commitment. 

Eleven years my senior, I met Steve in the corporate world. During our life together, he rarely spoke about his military service. His medals, commendations, and war stories lived quietly in the corners of our marriage—folded away like memories too heavy to unpack. 

When he passed away in 2022, I thought the hardest part would be learning to live without him. But even grief has bureaucracy. Proving his worth to the local government has felt like another battle—one I now fight for him. Every form, every phone call, every obstacle faced has become my way of saying, I won’t let them forget you.

As I gathered his records to build my case for the government, I began to see the depth of what he had endured. The military jargon was sterile, full of lists like units, missions, and exposures. But between those lines, I saw glimpses of the man behind them: young, brave, far from home, facing dangers I can barely imagine. During combat, he had been exposed to Agent Orange, contact that would later cause the cancers that stole him from me.

At his death, at age seventy-four, Steve was rated 100 percent totally and permanently disabled from illnesses tied to his service. It’s hard to see a loved one’s suffering translated into percentages and categories on government forms. Had he not served in Viet Nam, he might still be here— watching his four adult children and seven grandsons grow and thrive.

Since then, dealing with the VA and local tax authorities has become a second part-time job. I’ve stood in lines, made countless phone calls, and told our story over and over to strangers who needed more “verification.” Some were compassionate and others seemed to have lost sight of the human beings behind the paperwork. 

At times, I wanted to give up. It’s easy to feel invisible when you’re a widow advocating for what should already be granted by fairness and law. I kept reminding myself: this isn’t just about money or taxes. This is about honoring the life of a man who gave his health, his peace, and ultimately his life in service for this country.

Throughout this process, I have rediscovered my husband. I’ve learned things that fill me with pride and sadness. How much did he carry alone all those years? What stories were too painful to bring into our everyday life? Those things I will never know. And that, more than the bureaucracy or the waiting, is the hardest part.

As Hoda Kotb said, life’s not perfect. Some loose ends may never get trimmed and tidied. The government will eventually send a letter confirming the tax relief I’ve sought, but there will always be lingering questions. Details lost to time, stories left untold, and ghosts he carried alone.

I’ve come to see that these loose ends aren’t failures; they’re threads that keep his story connected to mine. Each piece of paperwork, each small victory, has become part of a longer journey—one that tests my patience but deepens my love.

The irony is that, even in his absence, he continues to teach me. His courage has become my own. Ultimately, what’s important is that his legacy isn’t defined by government recognition and tax relief. It lives on in the family he cherished, the lives he touched, and my determination to ensure his service is remembered with dignity.

Author’s Note

Stories like this remind me that even in grief, there’s discovery. My husband’s story, like so many veterans’, continues to unfold through memory, persistence, and love. On my blog, That Girl This Life, I write to connect loose threads—between identity and belonging, between service and silence, between loss and what remains.

Follow Me Here

February 4th, my audiobook for Twice the Family, A Memoir of Love, Loss, and Sisterhood released on Audible (ACX). It is also available on Spotify, Story Tel, Audiobooksnow, hoopla, CHIRP, and KOBO. 

Feb. 26 and March 18, from 1:30-2:30, I will teach a webinar for the Author Learning Center, titled “Essays That Echo: Crafting Personal Essays That Resonate.” Join me online for either date by registering here.

On March 3 from 5-7 PM, I will conduct a memoir writing workshop for the Westchester Public Library system at the Thomas Branch Library (200 W. Indiana Ave, Chesterton, IN). Join us for Memoir Magic. 

March 13-15, I’ve been invited again to attend the prestigious Tucson Festival of Books as a presenting author in the Adoptee Authors Booth alongside this impressive group of adoption writers:  EM Blake, Ken DeStefano, Ann Fessler, Dr. Abby Hasberry, Diana Kayla Hochberg, Ariel Rathbun, Emma Stevens (Linda Pevac), Jesse Scott, Diane Wheaton, and Jean Kelly Widner. 

March 20, Join me at the J McLaughlin store on Longboat Key for “Sip ‘N Shop” from 2-5. Julie will be signing books, and a portion of the store’s profits will be donated to the Longboat Key Library.

April 20, from 6-7:30 PM ET, I will be at the New Buffalo Township Library in New Buffalo, Michigan conducting a workshop on how to write compelling memoir. (This is a rescheduled event.) 

June 20, I look forward to connecting with fellow local authors at the Chicago Writer’s Association conference in downtown Chicago. This year’s event will be held at The Steppenwolf Theatre. 

Follow Julie by visiting her website, subscribe to her bimonthly newsletters, and listen to previous podcast recordings where she discusses topics like adoption, identity, family relationships, sisterhood and belonging.

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