After recently visiting my Uncleās grave, I was upset to hear, once again, about another young man who lost his precious life.
Another son had died.
In a foreign, far away place.
He fell as a soldier wearing the United StatesĀ uniform, and now, his parents were bringing him home.
And the reactions of the planeās passengers made me sick.
VERY SICK and VERY ANGRY!
The article describing theĀ incident here. Ā
I wanted to cry. I felt horrified to think other human beings could be so calloused. Americans, at that!
I couldnāt even fathom this lack of respect, nor comprehend such a show of self-centeredness or whatever they thought they were trying to achieve.
What causes a person/people to treat a grieving family with such disdain?
What has happened to our America?
I tried to place myself in that familyās shoes; that frozen moment in time they will NEVER forgetā¦
My heart was heavy for them.
But how can my heart be SO different from those that were on that plane?
My family is also familiar with this pain.Ā They could tell you of profound grief.
We, too, lost a young soldier in Vietnam many years ago.
He was escortedĀ home, finally.
It just happened to be decades after being listed as Missing in Action. (MIA)
It was the 60s and the Vietnam War was raging. My Uncle Terry had volunteered just as his two older brothers had.
He was part of a helicopter crew, rescuing the wounded when his helicopter was shot down.
Some of the men were thrown from the fiery crash, but Terry was never found.
We always wondered what the full story was.
Then, in 1993, some Vietnamese farmers came forth with items from a crash. And the story began to unfold.
Forensics were then confirmed in Honolulu, and my brotherāthen a young Marine himselfā escorted Terryās remains home.
Terry couldāve been buried at Arlington. However, Ā the family thought it best to teach a community (and the younger generations) a valuable lesson.
A lesson we feared was being lost, not really taught in schools much anymore.
Not just one lesson, but many:
That war was cruel.
Kids were still dying to this day.
That we should be there to support families, help where needed, and invite a military family over for the holidays.
(You know, just be a good human.)
That this could have been anyoneās son or daughter.
And there were other countries losing their people, DAILY, due to lack of freedom with many picking up rifles to enter war as children.
Most importantly,
that freedom had a price. Always has, always will.
A HUGE price.
So, on that hot and humid July 4th, Terryās high school gym was packed out.
He was remembered for his talented football skills, and his kind, gentle ways.
His ultimate sacrifice recognized.
Our family, once again, was left with distant memories. Ā Terryās parents (my grandparents) had wounds reopened all over again.
People lined the streets, kids waved flags, and many a biker rode in from the surrounding states to finally return their MIA bracelets.
It was a memorable sight to see them piled high, on the floor, near my grandparentsā feet.Ā It had to be so hard for them.
The news crews were there to capture it all.
The flag-draped coffin.
The thunderous flyover that moved you to your core.
The caisson; a solemn reminder as it passed through town to the beat of a sole drum.
COMPLETE RESPECT wasĀ shown that day.
Tragically, for this other family on the planeā¦
that didnāt happen.
There wasnāt much, if any, shown.
My Uncle Terry didnāt get to finish college.
And I sometimes wonder what his life might have looked like.
What wouldāve been his hobby to tinker with?
Who would he have married? How many kids would he have?
He wasnāt able to marry, have kids or enjoy a weekend with family.
(Just to have another day to show his own thankfulness.)
No, he CHOSE to leave a comfortable life to help in a far away land.
He wanted to show his loyalty.
He wanted to make sure we were ALL afforded continued freedom.
Simply putā¦HIS MOTIVES were PURE.
If I had been on that plane, I can tell youā¦
I could NOT have sat thereĀ silently!
I KNOW, that I wouldāve stood to speak for that family.
I KNOW, I wouldāve cried with that family.
I KNOW, I wouldāve tried to apologize to that family.
AND, I wouldāve thanked them and made it clearĀ that this is not the totality of America that my Uncle, nor their son, gave their lives for!!
Find a military family to reach out to.
Reach out to a grieving widow, a cop, a neighborā¦the lonely and under appreciated in your community.
Compliment your local worker.
Invite someone over for the holidays.
Say a prayer for others.
Just show some kindness, some thankfulness.
Bridge the gap(s).
Teach your kids.
Show some honor and respect.
I know my Uncle Terry would have,
if he could.
* For Terryās documented military story two accounts are listed below:
http://www.vhpa.org/KIA/incident/68081999KIA.HTM
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http://www.hmm-262combatvets.org/hoffmann_memorial.htm
Link to:The United States Marine Corps
Written in honor of Terry who would have turned 72 Feb. 4th.š
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