thedrifter
03-24-08, 09:20 AM
Becoming 'survivors'
By Steve Liewer
UNION-TRIBUNE STAFF WRITER
March 24, 2008
Each night at sunset, Dinara Ragimov lights a candle in the bedroom where her warrior son no longer sleeps.
As a boy, Mourad Ragimov fled civil war in his native Azerbaijan with his parents and took sanctuary in the United States. In 2005, as a Marine lance corporal fighting for his adopted country, he died at age 20 in a helicopter crash in Iraq.
Ragimov is one of at least 4,000 U.S. service members who have died in the Iraq war. The milestone was reached yesterday when a roadside bomb killed four soldiers.
Four thousand is fewer Americans than the number who died on the fields of Gettysburg or Spotsylvania, on the shores of Normandy or Guadalcanal. It is fewer than one-tenth of the service members who perished in the Vietnam War.
But it is far more than almost anyone imagined five years ago, when the United States led the invasion of Iraq.
Few places have given more to the war effort than San Diego County. About 330 Marines based at Camp Pendleton have died in the Iraqi theater, as have nine San Diego-based sailors and at least two soldiers. More than 50 other war dead – from across all the services – had personal ties to the county.
These days, Dinara Ragimov doesn't like to leave the Carmel Valley home she shares with her husband, Rufat, 50, and their daughter, Shayla, 18. She takes comfort in the precious stones, religious icons and books that remind her of her son and in the daily ritual that helps her feel his spirit is still alive.
Dinara has given up the alcohol and antidepressants that numbed her feelings for so long after Mourad's death. She has replaced them with meditation and prayer.
“Living without a child – you either survive or you die. We have become survivors,” said Dinara, 50.
Fellow survivors John and Marilyn Adams of La Mesa are trying to honor the memory of their son and move forward with their lives. They said that's what Lt. Thomas Adams would have wanted.
Their son, a Navy radar operator working with British troops, died March 23, 2003, when two Royal Navy helicopters collided. He was 27 and the ninth American killed in the war.
He was a valedictorian at Grossmont High School. He loved all things European and possessed a Monty Pythonesque sense of humor, his parents said. He was so crazy about soccer that he volunteered for an assignment in Japan so he would be there for the 2002 World Cup.
A close-knit extended family comforted his parents as they mourned and buried him. Some neighbors who had been casual acquaintances became fast friends.
The support buoyed them at a bad time, but it also reminded them of their grief.
“People were being so nice,” Marilyn Adams said, “and I just wanted to be normal again.”
She and John keep only a few of Thomas' many tributes, portraits and mementos at home. They store the other keepsakes in a hangar at El Cajon's Gillespie Field, where John – who is descended from a cousin of the presidents John Adams and John Quincy Adams – stores his private airplane.
“We're trying to balance remembering him (with) having him become an icon,” said Marilyn Adams, 60. “He was a down-to-earth guy. He'd be laughing at all this.”
Whether he wants to remember or not, Jack Ojeda of rural Santa Ysabel gets a reminder of his loss every time he drives into Ramona for supplies. A stretch of state Route 78 there is named for his son, Army Spc. Ramon Ojeda, who attended Ramona High School.
Ramon died May 1, 2004, when insurgents attacked his convoy. He was a newlywed husband and father at age 22.
His mother, Maria, keeps an oversized portrait of Ramon on a wall in the family home's living room, along with his medals and other military memorabilia.
“I really wish I could forget,” said Jack Ojeda, 61.
His own tribute is literally red, white and blue. Born in Mexico, he immigrated to the United States and served in the Army during the Vietnam War.
His patriotism is fierce. “I fly my flag practically every day, until it tears up. And then I buy a new one,” he said.
Each night, Jack said, he and Maria instinctively wake up about 2 a.m., the hour they learned that Ramon had died.
Nearly four years have passed. It pains Jack every time he hears of another family who has lost a loved one to war.
“It hits you right in the chest . . . but what can you do?” he said.
David and Deborah Tainsh have decided to cope through activism, by reaching out to families of fallen troops.
The couple raised their children – including a son, Patrick – in Oceanside. They kept their roots there while David served 28 years in the Marine Corps.
They said Patrick was a wild child deep into his 20s, a sullen surfer who became addicted to heroin. But Patrick somehow kicked the habit cold turkey before enlisting in the Army at 29.
On Feb. 11, 2004, his convoy struck a roadside bomb in western Baghdad. A piece of shrapnel hit him in the neck, but he managed to fire more than 400 rounds at insurgents so eight wounded soldiers could be evacuated. He died shortly after the firefight ended.
Sgt. Patrick Tainsh was awarded the Silver Star posthumously.
To cope, Deborah wrote a memoir of her stepson's life titled “Heart of a Hawk, Eye of the Eagle.” She became a counselor for the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors, a nonprofit group that helps families deal with the loss of a service member.
Together they have traveled the country, comforting other grieving families by sharing their own experiences. Late one night, Deborah talked the mother of a fallen Navy SEAL out of committing suicide.
“Hell, you're never normal after your child dies,” David Tainsh said in a phone interview from his home in Midland, Ga., where he and Deborah now live. “You'll never be that same jovial person again. You're in what my wife calls 'the new normal.' ”
They've found hope by helping others, which in turn honors the sacrifice made by their son.
“As long as my wife and I draw a breath, we'll always support the troops,” David Tainsh said. “We never let the memory of our sons and daughters die.”
Steve Liewer: (619) 498-6632; steve.liewer@uniontrib.com
Ellie
By Steve Liewer
UNION-TRIBUNE STAFF WRITER
March 24, 2008
Each night at sunset, Dinara Ragimov lights a candle in the bedroom where her warrior son no longer sleeps.
As a boy, Mourad Ragimov fled civil war in his native Azerbaijan with his parents and took sanctuary in the United States. In 2005, as a Marine lance corporal fighting for his adopted country, he died at age 20 in a helicopter crash in Iraq.
Ragimov is one of at least 4,000 U.S. service members who have died in the Iraq war. The milestone was reached yesterday when a roadside bomb killed four soldiers.
Four thousand is fewer Americans than the number who died on the fields of Gettysburg or Spotsylvania, on the shores of Normandy or Guadalcanal. It is fewer than one-tenth of the service members who perished in the Vietnam War.
But it is far more than almost anyone imagined five years ago, when the United States led the invasion of Iraq.
Few places have given more to the war effort than San Diego County. About 330 Marines based at Camp Pendleton have died in the Iraqi theater, as have nine San Diego-based sailors and at least two soldiers. More than 50 other war dead – from across all the services – had personal ties to the county.
These days, Dinara Ragimov doesn't like to leave the Carmel Valley home she shares with her husband, Rufat, 50, and their daughter, Shayla, 18. She takes comfort in the precious stones, religious icons and books that remind her of her son and in the daily ritual that helps her feel his spirit is still alive.
Dinara has given up the alcohol and antidepressants that numbed her feelings for so long after Mourad's death. She has replaced them with meditation and prayer.
“Living without a child – you either survive or you die. We have become survivors,” said Dinara, 50.
Fellow survivors John and Marilyn Adams of La Mesa are trying to honor the memory of their son and move forward with their lives. They said that's what Lt. Thomas Adams would have wanted.
Their son, a Navy radar operator working with British troops, died March 23, 2003, when two Royal Navy helicopters collided. He was 27 and the ninth American killed in the war.
He was a valedictorian at Grossmont High School. He loved all things European and possessed a Monty Pythonesque sense of humor, his parents said. He was so crazy about soccer that he volunteered for an assignment in Japan so he would be there for the 2002 World Cup.
A close-knit extended family comforted his parents as they mourned and buried him. Some neighbors who had been casual acquaintances became fast friends.
The support buoyed them at a bad time, but it also reminded them of their grief.
“People were being so nice,” Marilyn Adams said, “and I just wanted to be normal again.”
She and John keep only a few of Thomas' many tributes, portraits and mementos at home. They store the other keepsakes in a hangar at El Cajon's Gillespie Field, where John – who is descended from a cousin of the presidents John Adams and John Quincy Adams – stores his private airplane.
“We're trying to balance remembering him (with) having him become an icon,” said Marilyn Adams, 60. “He was a down-to-earth guy. He'd be laughing at all this.”
Whether he wants to remember or not, Jack Ojeda of rural Santa Ysabel gets a reminder of his loss every time he drives into Ramona for supplies. A stretch of state Route 78 there is named for his son, Army Spc. Ramon Ojeda, who attended Ramona High School.
Ramon died May 1, 2004, when insurgents attacked his convoy. He was a newlywed husband and father at age 22.
His mother, Maria, keeps an oversized portrait of Ramon on a wall in the family home's living room, along with his medals and other military memorabilia.
“I really wish I could forget,” said Jack Ojeda, 61.
His own tribute is literally red, white and blue. Born in Mexico, he immigrated to the United States and served in the Army during the Vietnam War.
His patriotism is fierce. “I fly my flag practically every day, until it tears up. And then I buy a new one,” he said.
Each night, Jack said, he and Maria instinctively wake up about 2 a.m., the hour they learned that Ramon had died.
Nearly four years have passed. It pains Jack every time he hears of another family who has lost a loved one to war.
“It hits you right in the chest . . . but what can you do?” he said.
David and Deborah Tainsh have decided to cope through activism, by reaching out to families of fallen troops.
The couple raised their children – including a son, Patrick – in Oceanside. They kept their roots there while David served 28 years in the Marine Corps.
They said Patrick was a wild child deep into his 20s, a sullen surfer who became addicted to heroin. But Patrick somehow kicked the habit cold turkey before enlisting in the Army at 29.
On Feb. 11, 2004, his convoy struck a roadside bomb in western Baghdad. A piece of shrapnel hit him in the neck, but he managed to fire more than 400 rounds at insurgents so eight wounded soldiers could be evacuated. He died shortly after the firefight ended.
Sgt. Patrick Tainsh was awarded the Silver Star posthumously.
To cope, Deborah wrote a memoir of her stepson's life titled “Heart of a Hawk, Eye of the Eagle.” She became a counselor for the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors, a nonprofit group that helps families deal with the loss of a service member.
Together they have traveled the country, comforting other grieving families by sharing their own experiences. Late one night, Deborah talked the mother of a fallen Navy SEAL out of committing suicide.
“Hell, you're never normal after your child dies,” David Tainsh said in a phone interview from his home in Midland, Ga., where he and Deborah now live. “You'll never be that same jovial person again. You're in what my wife calls 'the new normal.' ”
They've found hope by helping others, which in turn honors the sacrifice made by their son.
“As long as my wife and I draw a breath, we'll always support the troops,” David Tainsh said. “We never let the memory of our sons and daughters die.”
Steve Liewer: (619) 498-6632; steve.liewer@uniontrib.com
Ellie