CHICAGO — Memorial Day is a tough one for parents who have lost a child in Iraq or Afghanistan. But then, they’re all tough. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Family gatherings.
“You never know when it’s going to catch you by surprise,” said Jim Frazier, whose 24-year-old son, Staff Sgt. Jacob Frazier of the Illinois National Guard, was killed in Afghanistan in 2003. “I can be driving down the Kennedy and something will hit me . . . and I’ll find myself choking up. You never really get over it.”
First come the men at the front door bearing bad news, then the flag-draped coffin, followed by the precision of a military funeral — the snap of a salute, the spit-and-polish of a uniform, the firing of rifles in unison.
But after the crowds go home, grief is rarely tidy, say those who have lost a child in Iraq or Afghanistan. Some people inadvertently contribute to the heartache with awkward talk of closure or a tone-deafness about the significance of Memorial Day.
“Don’t ever use the word ‘closure’ with me,” Frazier said. “I once threw a reporter out who used that word. It’s simply a hole in your heart that is always there . . . and you learn to live with it.”
Public appearance too painful
On Memorial Day 2003, just two months after burying Jacob, his parents found themselves on a parade float going down a street in Chicago. The jarring contrast between the happy, smiling crowds and their own sadness left an indelible imprint.
“When it was over, I said, ‘Thanks for having us, but don’t ever make anyone sit on a float again,’ ” Frazier said.
It’s one reason why he has been involved in the city’s parade committee ever since.
He explains his activism this way: “I lost a boy . . . I can’t do anything for him, but I sure as hell can do something for the other young men and women in harm’s way. . . . It’s the way recovering addicts help recovering addicts. They’re the only ones that understand . . . and I seek out people who have gone through the same thing.”
So what expressions of sympathy are truly helpful? “The kindest thing you can do is just say, ‘Tell me about him,’ because if you don’t talk, you get sick. I’ve had some terrible times after Jake was killed, but for me, being of service is the way to go.
“I’d hope Jake would say, ‘I’m proud of you, Pops.’ “
Like Frazier, Kirk Morris marched in Chicago’s parade, after his son, Marine Pfc. Geoffrey Morris, 19, was killed by a grenade six years ago in Iraq. Still, he wrestles with ambivalent feelings on Memorial Day.
“It’s one of the most important days of the year to me, but it’s also unsettling,” he said. “I don’t think that the majority of Americans get it. It’s about remembering those who have fallen. . . . I don’t want to diminish our veterans, but that’s why we have Veterans Day. This day is about all those who never got their tomorrows.”
“What’s up with all the sales?”
Sandra Miller, mother of Army Pvt. De Wayne White, 27, who died in Iraq in 2007, said she is baffled that so many Americans do not recognize or even think about sacrifice, especially on Memorial Day. Even family members, she said, are too busy to mark the occasion, leaving her alone in her sorrow.
“It’s not about having a barbecue. It’s a day for remembering. . . . And what’s up with all the sales?” she said. “If one TV channel could just put up the photos of all the fallen for just one day, that would make a huge difference.”
She hasn’t stopped worrying. Another son, DeShaun — three years younger than his brother — is in Hawaii, about to be deployed for a third tour of duty in Iraq.
“All I asked is that he bring back some sand because that’s the last place my son touched.”
