Gold Star Dad

I found this buried in an old file somewhere.. thought it more relevant since 9/11

Guilt, shame or hell?

The gold star represents many things to those on the outside looking in and probably depending on what stage of the process we happen to living in at that moment, many more to us. There are a lot of levels of hells in numerous theologies and philosophies. The Buddhist sect that I studied taught that there are a lot of levels of hell and there is only one person who can take you there and or get you out. That person is you. I can tell you from personal experiences that this is very true or maybe just true to me. I have been in and out of these hells my whole life and more often since losing my son. To a father an old infantryman and a man there are separate hells and shames for each.

Guilt, shame or hell?

My children have been taught that they are indeed responsible for their actions and there is no one who can be blamed for their actions good and or bad. I have strived since they were small to teach them about the world and the history of mankind. Myself the “kind” really doesn’t fit the human animal in anyway. I have been a follower of histories of man, good men, bad men all men. I have read and encouraged my kids to learn history from all points of view. To help people who are being oppressed and to hate the human animals who seem to love to hurt people. This is one of my shames and one of the hells.

Guilt, shame or hell?

I joined the military because of my desire to be ready and trained in the coming age of the latest version of the religious armies. They were on the march before I was of age, but I understood what these humans could be capable of. There have been religious armies of humans on this planet before. I was aware of this and made my children aware of this. Be sure that no man is never more happy to kill when he feels that he does so with the blessings of his chosen god. I trained and I trained hard, It never happened on my watch

Guilt, shame or hell?

I never had to put this training and desire to stop the religious animals to the test, it would have to be left to our children and our children’s children. The threats where there, the warning given, the unanswered alarm and the deaths of many humans for simply daring to be in the wrong place or simple be labeled by these religious armies as the “enemy” to their god. The world was and still is willing to accept the death of many innocent people when it is they who are not forced to live in the crosshairs. Those in power appeased and the ignorant masses slept and played and went on like there were no cares in the world.

Guilt, shame or hell?

The attacks of 9/11 made the world wake up, some people in the world decided that they could accept this as long as it meant that they were not going to be inconvenienced or have to maybe face the awful truth that there were literally millions of humans who were willing to do the same exact thing to other people who have done nothing but refused to accept their version of their god or have supported others who have survived in spite of their never ending desire to kill them off. Not only would these people kill you, they would be hailed as gods themselves for doing so. Millions of them are out there,, and they are not going to stop. These people are the new Crusaders and they have the same vision of what they think their god wants…
Guilt, shame or hell?

The President made the case for the final end to the government of Iraq. I supported this but in the pit of my stomach, I knew what was in store and I knew the risks. I also knew that my sons and even my daughter would be the ones who would have to answer this call and that they would be damned for doing so! My generation failed my children and left them to do what needed to be done. The fact that the world fought so hard to protect the people who are in the business of spreading death and are proud and happy to do so made me ill and still does to this day. Where is the common sense? Where is the desire to free the oppressed? All of these are old fashioned and some could mention archaic to describe the desire to kill the evil humans to save those who may have a chance to turn out to love life and their children’s lives and futures over some theory of a benevolent loving god. When these people who slaughter innocent men women and children mention utter the word god, does anyone actually feel Gods love?

Guilt, shame or hell?

I was proud of my son. He had volunteered to go into the Infantry when he could have done anything else that he wanted. He WANTED to go to the infantry because that is where ultimately the buck stops. He left for Ft. Benning as I had, humped the same trails, sweat puddles on the same ground as I and my brothers had so many years ago. He smelled the same smells, learned the same lessons and turned blue with some of the bravest men that we will ever have the honor of producing. I turned my son blue and welcomed him into the fraternity that so many have before us joined through blood, sweat and learning to trust men like us. The shame for me that unlike me in my time, these fine young men knew where they were headed and stood tall in the glare of all the negatives that the pop culture could deal out. These were not draftees.. these young men joined for all of the old fashioned reasons that men have since men started to walk upright. There was evil and they were needed!

Guilt, shame or hell?

I watched my son grow into a real soldier. He was well respected by his own peers and by his leaders and he was a real apprentice at the craft of warfare. He was as ready as he would ever be. I spent the weekend with him before he shipped out, we talked and nervously readied ourselves for the next phase. I dropped my son off at his barracks and hugged the hell out of him.. even though he pretended that he didn’t want to. I want to hug him longer and stay there for a few more minutes..

Guilt, shame or hell?
The months of combat made my son even better at what he had gone off to do. He and his brothers fought the good fight and never lost sight of each other. We talked about things he did. I of course shamefully had only training and knowledge from history to offer to my son. He was talking to me about things and something just needed to hear from us. He had to know that home was still here and that we were ok. We talked about IED’s and my son was honestly afraid of them. I told him that he had all the right in the world to fear something like that. I related them to Flak in the Air war in WW2. Flak was something that was feared and hated by the airmen because there was no way to fight it, it was there and it could take your life instantly. On February 24 of 2008. this horror became a reality. Less than 48 hours after having this discussion with my son, his biggest fear over there took his life. Did I minimize it too much? Did I not hear my son well enough? I will never know. My son has not visited me in dreams as some of my dead friends have done and still do. Shamefully I do not dream of him, he is just as gone in my dreams as he is in real life. I miss him so. I just hope that he does know how much.

I am in hell, more than I am ever in out these days and it probably won’t improve much any time soon.

This one kind of rambles. I apologize up front!

It’s been a horrible time lately for Oklahoma and the military family here. Oklahoma has turned a lot of blue stars into gold here in a real short period of time. I am very torn about these things and while I have attending a few funerals for the military families here, I had not been to an actual KIA ceremony since I lost my own son and had to go through the whole process then. I have described how surreal and how mind blurring that whole period of time was for me. These are a lot different and more personally upsetting than I had imagined.

I read that another fine young soldier Spc. Jordan Morris from the 10th mountain Division who lost his life in Afghanistan was coming home on Saturday the 13th. As the only day that I can officially get out of work is Saturdays, I wanted to go to Stillwater to show support and stand the flag line and be a presence for him and for the family. It is an obligation for the country to show their respects to these men and women and their families. More than that though… The people in this country ought to WANT to stand shoulder to shoulder with each other and show these families and their fellow citizens that the fallen sons and daughters are not taken for granted and will never be forgotten.

My wife wanted to attend this homecoming today too… this unnerved me a bit as she had also not been to any of these let alone a KIA since Micheal’s. We were both about to find out how difficult this was going to be. We arrived in town and drove around until we found the place where the ceremony was to be held and then drove to the staging area where the various motorcycle groups were forming up to take part in the escort and show their support for this young man, his family and his community. There were hundreds of people there… It made me feel good to see them there.

We all gathered for the safety briefing from the Patriot Guard (even though we were in a “cage” this trip. The briefing covered many things and it even made me feel that some of things that happened during my son’s ceremony had finally been addressed. Even though it was like some horrible movie that day we had my son’s ceremony some things really stood out to me that day that angered and frustrated me to no end… what are you going to do to address this during a funeral? Once it starts… its like gravity… you’re along for a horrible ride that you cannot get off!

The Ride Captain covered the issue of taking photos… This was one of the most upsetting things during my son’s services. Some woman in the flag line was taking pictures of my son’s coffin and of my family during the ceremony… that really was upsetting as I cannot for the life of me figure who in their right minds would want a picture like that. The other issue that was covered was about not approaching the family. That also was a good idea to me. The second that the service ended at my son’s ceremony, (we hadn’t even stood up yet) I had several people literally climbing OVER me to get to my wife… a little nerve wracking to say the least.

After the briefing we all got into our vehicles and started the precession to the place where the memorial service was to take place, the line of vehicles was as impressive as anything that I’d ever seen. We all got into the parking lot and parked and moved to the front of the building to stand the flag line. One the way, we met the soldier who escorted Spc. Morris home. He was a young PFC from the 10th mountain. My wife hugged him and talked with him and this is where I knew that this was going to be an over emotional day… We moved to the front of the building with the others and stood the flag line in a HUGE group of men and women from the various organizations that were there that day. The call went out that the family was on the way. I told my wife that I hoped that being there in this large group of people made the family feel as I did that day when we came into sight of the cemetery and saw that there were literally hundreds of people there waiting to show their respects to my son.

The family drove into the parking lot and we all came to attention and the veterans saluted and the non- vets placed their hands over their hearts and the family was escorted by and into the building. We broke down the flag line and at that moment I knew that there was absolutely no way that I could go through the actual graveside ceremony for this man. I guess that I’m not as far down the trail as I should be at this point. We left the area and headed down the main street of Stillwater and it was also an emotional event. Hundreds of people lined the streets to show their respects the soldier who volunteered to represent us all and paid the highest cost. It took me back to driving a similar route on that March Day in 2008.

Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. The PC that I have practically lived in for the last 4 years has finally bought the farm. Complete hard drive failure of some sort. I lamented about it and knew that it was coming but really had a bit of a sinister sort of death wish as it related to the PC. All of the horrible feelings from Feb 24th 2008 where contained in that hard drive. All of the letters, emails and condolences and painful past where sitting there.. begging me to go back and read and lament and suffer over the things that others had said good and bad and all painful to read and fret over. Most of the really important things like pictures are already saved and distributed and posted for me to go and look at from time to time. Like most important things, I keep them in my soul for my own selfish consumption. I have lost an electronic record of the most painful years of my life..and to tell the absolute truth. its kind of a relief. Gone are the reminders of all the “friends” that I’ve had that have tossed their damaged “friend” away. Gone are all of the websites and places were I used to be normal.. I will just get to start over with a fresh electronic mind and move on down the road. Some will probably think me horrible to even say these things.. but that’s really nothing new. Part of the electronic cage door has been opened..

I hope this finds you well somewhere out there behind the curtain. I hope that it’s a world of weather choices and bright warm days when you want them and cool foggy ocean weather to close your eyes, breathe deeply feel and taste the weather on your face when the fancy strikes for that. A place where you get to choose your age for the day and dig all the holes, laugh, play in the mud with trucks and pails and build sand castles near the surf of some white sandy beach. A place and day to visit carnivals, zoos and a prom or two. All of the things you never really go to do. A day to visit friends and A place where all of the relatives who never got to know you, get their chance and knowing and loving you at those ages when they too had to make the trip. Their chance to play with and know the little boy, the fine young man and brave solider that you grew to be. I wish all of these things for you.. and someday for us all. I miss you son but someday I know that will build the sand castles with you on the same beach. Happy Birthday Micheal. This crummy world misses you.. but it sure doesn’t deserve you.

Flashbacks are just a part of the new normal I guess. I took our youngest up to the school early this morning to get on a bus for a trip to the state Special Olympics track meet. This is really his first trip anywhere overnight without us. All thus week it’s been prepping for the trip, packing and buying things for the next few days. This was a little trip for a few days and the kid is going to have a ball. Met the bus at the school helped him load his things, talked a bit to the teachers, the drivers as my son milled around and helped with loading things from the classroom into the bus.

I was just dad taking his kid to the bus for a field trip. Nothing crazy, nothing really weird not even a twinge of anything out of the ordinary day. They were all really busy with getting ready to go so I figured I’d leave and head out and let them go. I called Anthony over to give him a quick hug goodbye and was instantly overwhelmed with emotion. The second we hugged, I was hugging Micheal that day long ago and putting him on the bus for Ft. Benning or the “selfish” hug I got with Micheal outside the barracks that night at Ft. Campbell as he was leaving for Iraq. The crushing and unexpected wave of anguish and I guess shame of allowing it to attack me like that at an innocent little event made me pretty angry at myself. The owner of the human mind can be just as a cruel and punishing as anyone or anything else in the world I guess. There is no escape.

Got the news last night about the whole Ussama thing.. I couldn’t even feel good about it. Couldn’t sleep at all. This is another 1%er issue for me. After the announcement All I see is the loss of so many good people and the gloating and flag waving by all the posers and band wagon riders who magically now come out of the woodwork to shout slogans and wave flags like they were on board the whole time. Where were they in 2003? Where were they in 2008? The answer is, no where. They were doing what they do best, watching TV and hoping that their pick will win some singing contest or that their favorite bimbo won’t get voted off the island or god forbid that Donald Trump may fire their choice for apprentice. They go eat fast food, they drink their favorite ice cold brew and they don’t give a hoot what is going on outside of their little world. Now..magically “they” have killed Bin Ladin.. They got him.. they were a part of this somehow.. Strangely though.. they did not volunteer, they did not feel the stresses of training, they did not feel the pain, they did not meet a real standard to be welcomed into a brotherhood of men who would watch their backs and trust them to watch theirs, they did not kiss their loved one’s good bye, they did not fly thousands of miles away, they did not feel the fear of any of this.. they did not have to fight, they did not have to watch or hold onto their brothers while they died, they did not have to rotate out of this or rotate back in three, four or even more times. They are still the 99%ers to me.. and they always will be. This so reminds me of the packs of idiots after some championship sports game.. without the funny commercials..Feel good waving that flag.. that’s all some of you will ever be good at.

And for the military men and women out there.. and to our Commander in Chief. Thank you and job well done.

We loaded up this morning to drive down to Gainesville, Texas to attend the yearly book signings of the Medal of Honor recipients. We found out also that the traveling memorial was also in Gainesville this weekend. We decided to stop at the monument first. It was at the local high school and they really needed the room. This is not just a memorial for the fallen Vietnam veterans, this has information and dedications from all of the wars that the US military men and woman have been involved in since the country began. There was information spread out over a couple hundred yards of ground. I got pretty overwhelmed rather quickly being surrounded by the names and souls of so many warriors.

We went first to the war on terror panels and names.. there were so many names that I honestly felt pretty bad that I could not just sit there and read them all. I found Micheal’s name, and then looked for a few others who’s fathers or mothers I’ve had contact with over the years. I started reading names and dates and just had to stop after seeing the rows of names and the dates. There were 11 names on one day and I just couldn’t read the names anymore.. I had to take a stroll around the rest of the things there. By this time the place started to fill up rather rapidly. Lots of the motorcycle groups from around the area had motored in and started to view the names.

I had something happen that I didn’t mean to happen and feel pretty bad about it actually. As I approached the panel where Micheal is listed and where my wife and youngest son were standing, a group from one of the motorcycle groups came up and asked of him;”Does he understand what the names here mean”? I (without really thinking about it) replied ” He should, his brother is on this panel right there”. I guess I could have handled that better had I thought about it.. I just kind of blurted it out without thinking. He thankfully didn’t seem to think I was a complete jerk and we shook hands and went our separate ways. I couldn’t talk to him as I was for some reason fighting the emotions I was feeling since I got there had reached my level of containment. I meant to go find him and apologize. but I couldn’t find him again. I hope he understands.

We went from the memorial to the hall where the book signings and meet and greet for the MOH recipients were, this is our third year going there so we knew where to go and what the process was. Most of the gentlemen who were there had been there the previous years we went and visited a bit with them and I noticed that at one of the tables there signing books was no other than Joe Galloway. For those who don’t know, he was the man who survived the now famous battle in the La Drang Valley with Col Hal Moore and the 7th Cav. He co-wrote “We were soldiers once.. and young”. For his actions aiding and rescuing soldiers that day, he is the only civilian who was ever awarded the bronze star for his actions in Vietnam.

He talked a long while with several old veterans who were in line before me. One of them was an on 7th Cav trooper. I got my turn, I thanked him for being there and for all that he has done spreading the word of the bravery of the United States military. I asked him to sign his book and while doing so, my youngest came up to the table. Mr Galloway stopped what he was doing and gave my son a very important lesson about the world and learning and remembering history so we never repeat it. I felt really good that he took the time to personally address a kid.. I have a picture with Mr Galloway (thanks Angelia) and my son. I was an emotionally drained, windblown worn out Dad when I got home..

There are special days and weeks that everyone waits for with eagerness and great memories that happen in those times and dates. Speed week, Spring break, the whole holiday season, it’s normal and until a few years ago, I looked forward to some of these same things. That’s part of the whole human experience I guess.

The “new normal” has changed things for all of us “Gold Star” people I guess. I would not really speak for others who all walk the trail but speaking personally there really is no season or days that I really can honestly say that I look forward to like others do. That may be pretty sad for most people, but it’s really the way that I feel.

The week I’m referring to is February 24th – March 4th I guess technically it’s more than a week, but you get the idea. From the knock on the door until my son’s funeral is a period of time that for me doesn’t seem like it will ever get easier. This year was probably tougher than the last as there were a few things happening that never did before.

This week we got interviewed for a PBS special about the whole gold star experience. The two guys who came down to shoot and interview us were top notch and I felt comfortable pretty soon after we started talking. We went out to the cemetery and they shot some footage. I don’t like going to the cemetery because frankly, I don’t really think of my son as being there. Every once in a while I will go out to the grave alone and reflect and focus on things and have more or less some quiet time.
The interview was not too bad, the interviewer asked some questions and the responses were pretty easy as they are all stored where they are easy to get to. There was one question that I had a hard timing finding the answer too… “Name something funny that Micheal did”. I had to really try and separate all of the silly and funny things he did constantly and got a massive “brain cramp” and really couldn’t come up with anything.

The rest of the interview was OK, but I found myself starting to crack when I was describing the day that we got Micheal home. Wow… it is a lot easier to write down than to talk to an interviewer about. If you ever get to see the special, I know you’ll hear it in my voice… the tears in the eyes of the interviewer didn’t really help. (Just kidding interviewer dude)

My wife did the next interview and I had to go out into the back yard and unwind… I didn’t want to distract them and I needed a break. A few adult beverages and a nice chat with one of Micheal’s platoon members. We went back inside and it was his turn in the hot seat. It was great to hear his accounts of my son’s antics, his soldering and of course the account of his last day. They all thought that when Micheal was flown out, he was on his way to get fixed … sadly, by the time they got back to their barracks; all of my son’s effects were gone… I’m sure that was horrible as anything else that day. It was probably not much longer until we got the news that they already knew.

Thank you Ryan, for being there that day… and with us the whole week.

Remember the story about the bunker that I have exiled myself to for going on three years now? Well, the small forays into the world of the new normal have been growing in time and I guess in distance. The bunker however is still there. Lots of things in the bunker have entered, been placed like bricks in the walls and have laid there frozen in time along with me. We decided that it was long overdue to get things moving and continue to make this place livable and even more likable for ourselves. New windows, siding, carpet the things that make a house or even bunker more comfortable.
New carpets means moving things, lots of things… in face EVERYTHING. That in normal houses is probably a large endeavor, in the bunker where things have come a part of the revetments and defenses, this became larger than I ever expected. We had to dig out the corners of things and memories and life from the last three years. I felt rather good about this as it felt like I was really moving, going somewhere. The last few days were near 80 and the sun was shining, sanding painting and patching.

Today I was setting up a computer that has pretty much sat in the corner of the back bedroom for the last few years into my youngest son’s room. I figured that it’s just sitting and gathering dust and he really deserves to have a computer of his own that he can play what he wants when he wants. Part of the process of moving computers of course is moving all the “stuff” that goes with them. I discovered several discs that were well hidden in the bottom shelves..
I had this feeling that they were pictures of the recent past. I found out that they were things that I had seen and had basically forced into the black bag in the back of my skull. The first disc was of the day Micheal came home, the pictures instantly brought it all back The crowds, the motorcycles, private jet the hangar, the line of cars and bikes, the strangers lined up down the streets leading into the town, all of it. The fact is that I was right back there and that day.
The next disc was of my Ft Benning trip, the turning blue, the graduation, the young shiny new infantryman and his new family, me and my old infantry buddy who went on the trip, the pictures of the “welcome home Pokey” banner on the front of the house. It was all there.. the smiles in the pictures from all of in the photos.. it was surreal.
The last disc contained Micheal’s high school graduation. The cap and gown and the checkerboard vans the promise of a new citizen and a soon to be soldier..

Is there a difference in death? I can honestly say that I believe so. I got caught off guard the other day and it struck me how different that a death can be. November 30th was the anniversary of my mother’s passing 22 years ago. I had long forgotten this date as the date was never more important that the loss. The loss was I guess ingrained in me as a young man. It is a certainty that at some point in our lives we will lose our parents our elders even our siblings. For my mother this happened far too soon and not in the best manner. She was taken by the beast, Cancer. She fought it off the first time, but as most beasts do, they can sense when you are weak may come back to claim what they missed the first time.

My mother was a damn important person in my life. She was always my mother but we were also great friends we had the type of relationship where nothing really was out-of-bounds. She was someone who I admired for being able to do what she did. When the beast had her for the second time and the battle was near the end, I could tell that she was just tired of fighting and there is no more helpless a feeling that watching someone you love so much, start to lose their battle to live. We talked about it one day and I told her how much I loved her and that if my kids turned out half as good as I feel that I turned out, I would be proud. I told her that when she felt she needed to, that there was nothing wrong with letting go. We would all be OK because of the way she and my dad raised us. We were raised to do the best we could with whatever we had at the time.

No long after that, I got the call one evening that my mother had indeed passed away. I was like everyone upset and mourned for our loss but this was no shock. I could feel better and almost relieved that she was no longer in pain and that for the first time in years could get some peace. I know that my mother is still with me and has never really left the family. There are a lot of examples of this. This brings me to the difference in deaths in our lives. Mt Grandfather passed away while I was stationed in Germany he too was caught by the beast… I gathered my Infantry brothers around, had a drink to him and his life and I moved on as he would have expected. My mother expected the same and I owed that to her. I had a young family to support and raise and all I could do was get after the task of doing that with a few moments of seeking out her silent advice on what to do at various times.. But always moving forward…

The death of my son is completely different and the hour and the date are seemingly forever burned into my soul. I cannot seem to move past this. Where glimpses and thoughts of my mother or grandpa bring me thoughts of happiness and even a smile or two, when something triggers thoughts of my son, there is only feelings of deep remorse and dread. The simplest thing can get me into that mode where I cannot seem to go anywhere but backward, back to the moment, phone call, the news, the wait, the ceremonies and too his loss. There seems to be a difference in seeing what we lost as opposed to what my son lost. I think I mourn more for what he has lost more than what I have lost this time. At this time of year when there is so much electricity in the air, so many past memories of my own childhood and of my own children. I hope someday to meet up with all of my lost loved ones someday in the great hereafter … I hope I’m worthy enough to make this happen. I hope that they all have a Merry Christmas and are out there somewhere enjoying the love that we all had for each other. I love you all and miss you still.