On a frigid winter day in November, 2006 I stood on a tarmac. About 50 family members and friends stood in somber, silent groups. Two perfect rows of soldiers were lined up in front of me. I noticed a female soldier, wearing a tan-grey skirt was shaking from the cold. Another group of soldiers moved the flag draped casket holding my brother from the airplane to the hearse. Stepping closer to my mother, I slipped my arm through hers to remind her I was there and glanced over at two blond haired children whose watery blue eyes were now our lingering reflection of their father. My emotions welled up within me and all I wanted to do was run up to the casket and throw myself on it. How I longed to be as close to him as I could get! My goodness! How I love him! Instead I pulled my scarf up to wipe tears and could do nothing but watch as he was loaded into the hearse and the doors were shut.
As we drove along in the procession, I was amazed to see hundreds of people lining the streets and holding American flags. I remember thinking, "Jim would never believe this!" He was the last person to think he was something special. In fact, most of the time he felt inadequate.
In the weeks after the funeral my family was blessed to receive many letters, phone calls, and e-mails from people telling us of things Jim had done for them. A lady he worked with explained how she had been going through a hard time. Her husband was in Iraq while she was home with four children and under incredible stress. When Jim found out he recruited a friend, went to Home Depot to buy supplies, and spent the next couple weeks building a rec room in her basement. It was all at his own expense. Any time my mother needed anything, he would jump to her aid. Once with my children and his, he built a snow fort, ran an extension cord to it, and strung Christmas lights in it. He spent the last week home before he left for Iraq at my house helping us put a new roof on our garage. When I told him he didn't have to spend his last week working at my house, he said, "Lis, this is where I want to be today." End of subject. And how many people can remember how he would never pay them a visit empty handed? ... even if it was just a bottle of flavored coffee creamer (Coconut Cream).
After his death, I did a lot of reflecting. Yes, Jim was a hero for taking a bullet to his heart while doing his duty as a soldier and an American. Yes, he was a hero for his courage and committment. Yes, his place in history is sealed as a war hero. I have learned that it is not all the big things that makes one a hero. It is all the little things we do for people and the way we care for the ones we love. Jim is a hero to my sons because he made a point to pause his life and build snow forts with them. He made them feel like they were special to him. ... Someday my family and friends will watch my casket being carried. I want them to have good memories like I have of my brother. And I realize that is completely up to me.
As we drove along in the procession, I was amazed to see hundreds of people lining the streets and holding American flags. I remember thinking, "Jim would never believe this!" He was the last person to think he was something special. In fact, most of the time he felt inadequate.
In the weeks after the funeral my family was blessed to receive many letters, phone calls, and e-mails from people telling us of things Jim had done for them. A lady he worked with explained how she had been going through a hard time. Her husband was in Iraq while she was home with four children and under incredible stress. When Jim found out he recruited a friend, went to Home Depot to buy supplies, and spent the next couple weeks building a rec room in her basement. It was all at his own expense. Any time my mother needed anything, he would jump to her aid. Once with my children and his, he built a snow fort, ran an extension cord to it, and strung Christmas lights in it. He spent the last week home before he left for Iraq at my house helping us put a new roof on our garage. When I told him he didn't have to spend his last week working at my house, he said, "Lis, this is where I want to be today." End of subject. And how many people can remember how he would never pay them a visit empty handed? ... even if it was just a bottle of flavored coffee creamer (Coconut Cream).
After his death, I did a lot of reflecting. Yes, Jim was a hero for taking a bullet to his heart while doing his duty as a soldier and an American. Yes, he was a hero for his courage and committment. Yes, his place in history is sealed as a war hero. I have learned that it is not all the big things that makes one a hero. It is all the little things we do for people and the way we care for the ones we love. Jim is a hero to my sons because he made a point to pause his life and build snow forts with them. He made them feel like they were special to him. ... Someday my family and friends will watch my casket being carried. I want them to have good memories like I have of my brother. And I realize that is completely up to me.
No comments:
Post a Comment