Face To Face 10.22.15

Margot Stengel distills her new life philosophy like this: “Every day is going to be of service, whether it’s smiling at someone or giving them a ride – just being a kind human.”

Margot Stengel remembers vividly the moment a casualty assistance officer knocked on the door of her Monterey home to tell her that her eldest son, U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Vincent Wayne Ashlock,had died in his sleep while deployed in Afghanistan on Dec. 4, 2010. He’d been experiencing severe neck pain after an IED explosion, but the Pentagon attributed the 45-year-old’s death to heart failure, and classified it as a “non-combat death.” Stengel was on a plane at 6am the next morning, bound for Dover, Delaware, to watch as his body was repatriated.

She remembers another more obscure moment, nearly a year later, just as vividly: At 2:30pm on Nov. 2, still wracked with grief, she sat down at the kitchen table and starting hatching a plan for an event to honor her son. “I said, ‘I’ve got to do something to get a purpose in life,’” Stengel says.

The result was a 10K race in 2013, honoring the nine Monterey County service members who’d lost their lives at war since 2004. (Since 2013, more have died. This year, the third annual race, runers honor a total of 14 fallen service members.) Some 600 runners are expected to race this Saturday, on a course designed by Olympic coach Bob Sevene. Stengel promises good weather: She checked the Farmer’s Almanac a year ago when choosing the date.

Race-planning became Stengel’s therapy, and a necessity to steel herself when tragedy struck again. Last December, her younger son, Ryan “Buzz” Schweitzer, died suddenly from a brain aneurism at 44. Stengel, 69, spoke with the Weekly about recovering from grief and honoring her sons.

Weekly: Tell me about that moment you came up with the idea for the run.

Stengel: I got out of my bedroom and thought, “I can’t keep doing this, going back to my hole and trying to make the world go away.” I decided there’s great healing through giving back. I decided to do something, and this is a great running community.

Are you a runner?

I’m not a runner, I’m not an organizer, I’m not athletic. But I was trying to capture that audience.

Part of your mission creating the 10K was to increase awareness of veterans and those killed in action. Has that happened?

Not only has this brought awareness about these 14, but it’s brought awareness about respecting and paying attention to the service people in our community. Every one of them has signed that blank check, and at any moment they’re ready to go – I don’t want to say “die for” – to protect their country.

It used to really offend me that in this military community, people weren’t aware we had these fallen service members. I couldn’t fathom it.

You helped your son Wayne re-enlist at age 41. Did you worry then about losing him?

He said, “I’ve wasted time in my life. I haven’t done anything of importance and I want to show my family who I am.” His dream came true and he deployed to Iraq, then Afghanistan.

He did what he said he was going to do. Not many people know exactly what they want in life and accomplish that.

You sound almost like you’re talking about yourself, and finding a way to move beyond grief to the next chapter.

I’m a very sad, grieving mother. But I don’t want that to define me. I took on a challenge and I conquered most of my fears – facing the public again, doing something worthwhile, giving back.

Do you have any advice for other grieving parents or their friends?

Grief makes people uncomfortable; they don’t know what to say or how to be with you. I’ve learned there are no words that will make them feel better. Saying “I’ll pray for you” is nice, but the most important thing is just to be present. Just hang out. Months later, call them for lunch.

You said this is your last year organizing the race. What’s next?

It’s time for me to get a job and a social life and just move on.

My younger son was the happy-go-lucky one who helped me through all this. He lost a baby at 4 months old, so he knew how it was to lose a child.

He would say to me, “Wayne wouldn’t want this: You don’t even come out and have a beer with me.” I’m sure my boys are tap dancing in heaven saying, “She finally got it.”

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