thedrifter
08-12-07, 07:20 AM
After the dreaded knock on the door
By: BRIGID BRETT - For the North County Times
On Aug. 7, an American soldier was killed in Baghdad. On Aug. 8 his name was not yet released and his next of kin not notified. According to the Multi National Force Web site , he was conducting "targeted raids and clearing operations in order to disrupt insurgent and militia elements operating in this section of the Iraqi capital."
By now, his next of kin has been notified. Perhaps his mother was the first to know. Did she see the car park outside her house, and watch the uniformed men walk up her driveway? Did she run away or slam the door in their faces, as many do, hoping that if the news is not heard it will mean that it did not happen? Or was it his wife who stood there with her baby on her hip and the smell of early morning coffee in the air? Did she swallow a scream so as not to frighten her toddler playing in the next room?
On Aug. 3, at the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors seminar at Camp Pendleton, I met some of the next of kin ---- mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, sons, daughters, sisters and brothers. For some, the grief has begun to take an occasional back seat to some of life's pleasures, for others it is as jagged and painful as a newly splintered bone.
"For most of us grief simply starts out with simply becoming frozen ---- flash frozen like a Popsicle or an icicle," explains Dr. Darcie Sims of TAPS , a nonprofit national peer-support organization. "That can last for days, for weeks, for a year or more. ... No matter what we do, we all start to thaw at some point, and then grief begins to hurt. This hurts everywhere. Your head hurts, your eyelashes hurt, your toes hurt, your back hurts, you can't speak, you can't eat. ... Grief is very physical. You may find yourself starting to thaw today."
There are nods of recognition. People blow their noses, wipe their eyes. The father of a young soldier who was killed just six months ago strokes his wife's back. His face is ashen with pain.
"I promised my son the moon and the stars not to join. Then he turned 18 and he joined the Marines without telling me," Martha Bachar of San Diego tells me. "He always wanted to help people."
He also loved making people laugh and eating Oreo cookies, she says, showing me his photo. His bright brown eyes look so alive. Fluent in English, Spanish and Arabic, Salem was killed in the streets of Baghdad before his 21st birthday.
According to Department of Defense statistics as of Aug. 8, there have been 4,091 military fatalities in Iraq and Afghanistan. These deaths do not include accidents, suicides, homicides and illness after deployment. Neither do they reflect the anguish, anger, guilt and feelings of betrayal that the survivors are left to bear.
"TAPS is not a therapeutic organization," says Dr. Sims, "but everything we do is therapeutic in nature, because I found when I could tell my story I hurt a little bit less. And when I was able to receive someone else's story I knew they hurt a little bit less. And finally we began to create little flashlights along this incredibly dark path."
Valley Center resident Brigid Brett is a freelance columnist for the North County Times. Contact her at brigidbrett@aol.com.
Ellie
By: BRIGID BRETT - For the North County Times
On Aug. 7, an American soldier was killed in Baghdad. On Aug. 8 his name was not yet released and his next of kin not notified. According to the Multi National Force Web site , he was conducting "targeted raids and clearing operations in order to disrupt insurgent and militia elements operating in this section of the Iraqi capital."
By now, his next of kin has been notified. Perhaps his mother was the first to know. Did she see the car park outside her house, and watch the uniformed men walk up her driveway? Did she run away or slam the door in their faces, as many do, hoping that if the news is not heard it will mean that it did not happen? Or was it his wife who stood there with her baby on her hip and the smell of early morning coffee in the air? Did she swallow a scream so as not to frighten her toddler playing in the next room?
On Aug. 3, at the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors seminar at Camp Pendleton, I met some of the next of kin ---- mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, sons, daughters, sisters and brothers. For some, the grief has begun to take an occasional back seat to some of life's pleasures, for others it is as jagged and painful as a newly splintered bone.
"For most of us grief simply starts out with simply becoming frozen ---- flash frozen like a Popsicle or an icicle," explains Dr. Darcie Sims of TAPS , a nonprofit national peer-support organization. "That can last for days, for weeks, for a year or more. ... No matter what we do, we all start to thaw at some point, and then grief begins to hurt. This hurts everywhere. Your head hurts, your eyelashes hurt, your toes hurt, your back hurts, you can't speak, you can't eat. ... Grief is very physical. You may find yourself starting to thaw today."
There are nods of recognition. People blow their noses, wipe their eyes. The father of a young soldier who was killed just six months ago strokes his wife's back. His face is ashen with pain.
"I promised my son the moon and the stars not to join. Then he turned 18 and he joined the Marines without telling me," Martha Bachar of San Diego tells me. "He always wanted to help people."
He also loved making people laugh and eating Oreo cookies, she says, showing me his photo. His bright brown eyes look so alive. Fluent in English, Spanish and Arabic, Salem was killed in the streets of Baghdad before his 21st birthday.
According to Department of Defense statistics as of Aug. 8, there have been 4,091 military fatalities in Iraq and Afghanistan. These deaths do not include accidents, suicides, homicides and illness after deployment. Neither do they reflect the anguish, anger, guilt and feelings of betrayal that the survivors are left to bear.
"TAPS is not a therapeutic organization," says Dr. Sims, "but everything we do is therapeutic in nature, because I found when I could tell my story I hurt a little bit less. And when I was able to receive someone else's story I knew they hurt a little bit less. And finally we began to create little flashlights along this incredibly dark path."
Valley Center resident Brigid Brett is a freelance columnist for the North County Times. Contact her at brigidbrett@aol.com.
Ellie