Natalie Craver’s husband Johnny had been assigned from Ft. Benning to Ft. Hood. The move would put them closer to their families in Texas. It would be great being near family, especially with a husband who was often deployed.
October 13, 2006. Natalie took her husband’s grandmother to lunch to celebrate her birthday. Johnny had asked her to call him after lunch but she wasn’t able to reach him. Not that unusual, he was stationed in Iraq.
After lunch and a visit with Johnny’s mom, she took their three children to visit her dad for a few days.
“The day after we arrived, the doorbell rang. My dad answered. There were two guys standing there in uniform. The second he turned to me, there was a look on his face I had never seen. I knew at that moment that Johnny was dead.”
Army 2nd Lt. Johnny Craver, 37, was killed in a small town south of Baghdad when he stepped out of the Bradley fighting vehicle he was commanding and an improvised explosive device blew up under his feet. Two of his men also were killed and another soldier was injured.
For Natalie, it was the message she feared but somehow expected. For her three children, it was unfathomable.
“My oldest, Savanah was 12. She looked at her brother, eight-year-old Caelen, and said Dad’s dead.”
Caelen screamed, “He was my best friend!” Three-year-old Emma was likely too young to understand at the time that Daddy wasn’t coming home.
The hero
After five years in the National Guard, Johnny joined the Army which had been a childhood dream.
He volunteered to go to Iraq and told his family it was because other children needed to see their fathers.
“Johnny died doing what he loved, being an Army Ranger,” according to his mother. He didn’t have to go fight but he didn’t get those Ranger tabs to sit behind a desk. He wanted to be among the fighting soldiers, and that’s what he did.”
Johnny wasn’t just a hero to his family but to those he served alongside.
At his funeral, time and time again, his fellow soldiers explained their love for their “brother” to Natalie and her family.
“He was their mentor and hero. Many said they would never forget the sound of his voice, how he changed their lives, and how they were better men for having known him,” Natalie explained.
In a touching tribute written almost a year after Johnny’s death, Major Brad Israel, a fellow soldier from Officer Candidate School, was finally able to put his emotions into words.
“I do seek comfort in knowing that Johnny, like the rest of us, voted with his own two feet to serve our country because he believed in God, Family, and service to our Country. The men he led loved him and were honored to call Johnny their Leader. He accomplished more at age 37 than most will achieve in a lifetime. Johnny lived a fulfilling life; a life of purpose, direction, and values. That will always keep him in the ranks of our Nation’s finest.”
What happens when you’re gone
A military wife lives with the fear and reality of knowing tomorrow may never come. Every single day.
It took Major Israel a year to compile his feelings into words. Imagine what it was like for Johnny’s young family back in Fort Hood, living in a new home, where Johnny never spent a single night before he shipped out to Baghdad?
Eighteen years of enlistment. For his family, twelve years of moving around the country for his duties. Three young children. A beautiful love story comes to a shattering end. Johnny only had 45 days left to serve in Iraq at the time of his death.
“At that moment, I wanted to die and if I could have gone with him, I would have but I’m here taking care of his babies and I’ll be strong for them, but I’ll never forget that moment when I found out he was never going to come home.”
She began grieving for her life and for the lives ahead for their children.
“It was surreal. Raising our children saved my life, although they may have been deprived of the mother I was before because I was suicidal at times.”
Family, best friends, and a therapist interceded.
“I made a deal with myself. My youngest, Emma, was three years old. I looked at the trajectory of my life and told myself to hang on until she turned 18.”
The next chapter
Even before Johnny left forever, Natalie had worked with the American Red Cross, which is where I met her. She was the Health and Safety Director. I was the Development Director. We became fast friends.
Following Hurricane Katrina, we worked almost round-the-clock for weeks to provide support for more than 300 evacuees. At one point during that grueling schedule, Johnny had brought two of their kids to visit. Natalie was close to tears.
One of the Red Cross mental health counselors described it as ‘compassion fatigue’ and told her to go home. It was then that Natalie decided to go back to school and get her Masters degree in counseling.
It would be the perfect career path for her.
“When Johnny died, I immersed myself in grief. It can become your identity if you let it. A Licensed Counselor and Therapist learns to listen and encourage. Most importantly, a therapist who can’t relate to life experiences can’t be effective.”
Today, Natalie has a thriving practice and has remarried to a wonderful man, Billy Coleman, who gives her the space and support she needs to remember Johnny who will forever be a part of her life.
Her children have excelled. Savanah is married and is a marketing and wedding coordinator for San Bernardino National Park in California. Caelen is married and works in restaurant management in Colorado Springs. Her youngest, Emma, recently earned a scholarship to play softball at North Central Texas College.
Johnny would be proud of their accomplishments.
Lessons shared
As someone who has walked the walk, Natalie shared some advice to military wives.
“It’s hard to be in the military. Have the hard conversations before deployment. I was blessed to know what my husband wanted. Don’t dwell on expectations and unfulfilled promises. Avoid the situations that make you uncomfortable.”
She attends a meeting once a year with military widows. It’s an opportunity to connect, explore grief, and provide a measurement for the healing.
Natalie’s compassion and strength in providing comfort exemplify the same strength that her husband Johnny had.
Knocks at the door no one wants to hear. Caskets coming home. Broken families. All for the soldiers who won’t come marching home.
