Losing a Child: 7 Years Later

When Christopher died March 24, 2002, I was at his bedside in the trauma unit at Vanderbilt Hospital Center in Nashville. Chris was in the Army, stationed at Ft. Campbell, KY. One weekend he and a friend were hiking in the hills surrounding the base, when Chris slipped on some wet leaves and went over a 30 foot cliff, hitting his head on the way down.

It took 4 hours to airlift him to Nashville because they were in a remote area. This delay in treatment caused his brain to swell. I received a phone call from the Colonel of his division and flew to Nashville. Army personnel escorted me to the hospital from the airport.

When I arrived at Vanderbilt Hospital, I slowly walked into the large trauma ward, not set up as individual rooms, but curtained-off areas. I could hear the loud pumping noise of a respirator as I walked up to my son. His body was warm, but the brain functioning was not there. I talked to him and touched his hands for about 3 hours, while two military wives rubbed my back and consoled me.

It took 6 years for me to put his picture back on the wall in my apartment. Initially, I couldn't look at it without a pang of sorrow and I didn't want to feel that pain. But in 2008 I had healed enough to hang his picture again, and began to smile when I saw it, remembering the good times. I can imagine that he is "somewhere else" now, and watching me go through the grieving process. On March 24th, 2009, I think I can smile at his memory now.

Ah, is Death Ever a Blessing?

My Army Son Died Before Going to Iraq

There is nothing worse than the death of a child...right? But what is the nature and manner of his death? Perhaps that deserves some consideration.

My son was killed in 2002 at Ft. Campbell, Kentucky, from a fall. He was hit on the head by a rock as he tumbled down a cliff. I went to Ft. Campbell the next day to see to my son's final arrangements and attended a very emotional farewell memorial service, attended by about 900 members of the 101st Airborne.

At the end of the service, I stood outside the chapel and shook the hands of 900 members of the 101st Airborne, including 2 generals. I got many letters of condolence from all levels of the military. I have t-shirts, pictures, diaries and other memorabilia given to me by that great military unit.

Then, a few months later, the war in Iraq began. The 101st Airborne was one of the first to invade Iraq. Naturally, I thought of my son and how he would have been there. I also thought of the 900 hands I shook...now they were all in Iraq under war conditions.

As the years have gone by, I have been saddened to know that a percentage of the hands I shook at that Memorial Service are now dead, killed in Iraq. I wonder how many have lost limbs, are brain damaged, or otherwise disabled?

In the secret areas of my heart, I thank God that my son did not have to face that horrible war. I thank God that he is not maimed, disabled, brain damaged, or just existing in fear at the horrors of impending death that defines war.

Of course I would rather have my son alive and happy. I would rather he were just biding his time in the Army until he could get the G.I. Bill, and have saved enough money for college. I look at the commercials on T.V. about the "Army of One" and how enticing they make the military seem. I just have to shake my head in sadness. They just don't know.