thedrifter
12-26-03, 02:02 PM
Marine never had chance to hold baby
December 24,2003
ROSELEE PAPANDREA
DAILY NEWS STAFF
They talked about debt-free days, birthday bashes, joint military retirements, traveling the world together and one day doting on grandchildren.
Nicolas and Michelon Hodson were young and in love.
Michelon tries to hide behind laughter as she remembers the dreams she shared with Nicolas before he left Camp Lejeune for the war in Iraq last January. But the memories and the grief that dwell in her heart now overwhelm her.
Her husband, a sergeant in the Marine Corps, died in the war. Michelon, 24, still isn't ready to let him go.
"Now, I feel like I'm living my dreams alone," she said.
"He was my joy. He made me laugh. When I was having a bad day, he made me laugh. Now that he's gone, my joy is gone."
Nicolas, a field wiremen assigned to 3rd Battalion, 2nd Marine Regiment, 2nd Marine Division, was riding in a convoy in southern Iraq at 3 a.m. on March 22. His military vehicle swerved and turned over. Three Marines were injured. Nicolas was killed at age 22.
Originally from Richlands, Michelon has made Jacksonville home - for now. She is trying to make a life for her sons Marius, 2, and Nicolas, 5 months.
She was pregnant with Nicolas when his father was killed in the war.
Most days, she keeps the curtains drawn and her house dark. Her children are the only light in her life, she said. One room in her house is dedicated to her husband and her attempt at finding peace. She calls it her meditation room.
The American flag that was draped over Nicolas' coffin is neatly folded and stored in a triangular wooden box. It sits along with a candle on an altar of sorts. A wooden globe and anchor, a helmet and a pair of her husband's boots - made of desert camouflage - sit in the center of the room.
It's a place where she goes to gather thoughts, search for answers and summon strength. It's where she attempts to rebuild herself.
But Michelon is no closer to moving on than she was the day she was told of her husband's death.
For now, she holds on tight to what she and her husband once had and the two people that will keep them bound forever - Marius and Nicolas. They will never know the husband their mother loved, the Marine who fought for his country or the father that thought the world of them but never got the chance to hold his youngest son.
Opposites attract
Michelon and Nicolas met more than three years ago in a club in Jacksonville, a few days before Michelon left for basic training in the Army. Originally from Smithville, Mo., Nicolas was stationed at Camp Lejeune.
"He was nowhere near my type, and I knew I was going to be leaving. I wasn't looking for someone," Michelon said.
But Nicolas was determined to be in Michelon's life. He drove to Subway in Richlands, where Michelon worked, and waited two hours for her to finish her shift. He told her he was going to write to her to help get her through basic training. He'd been through it himself. He knew it was tough.
He was tall and skinny. He said off-the-wall stuff. He babied Michelon. He was the life of the party. He had a goofy laugh.
"But I loved that tall skinny guy and that goofy laugh," she said, as tears dripped down her smiling face. "He just grew on me."
Their relationship developed fast. Before Michelon knew it, she was graduating from basic training in Oklahoma, and Nicolas was there to celebrate with her. While stationed at Fort Lee in Virginia, Michelon was homesick.
"I was a big ol' baby away from home," she said. "I'd call him and whine and complain. He drove all the way to Virginia to visit me. After that, we knew we pretty much wanted to be together."
They were married in June 2001, but Michelon was still stationed at Fort Bragg and Nicolas at Camp Lejeune.
"We burnt the road up seeing each other," she said and laughed.
In October 2001, Michelon gave birth to Marius. In October 2002, Nicolas' mother died of lung cancer. He had taken humanitarian leave so he could spend those last days with her and then spent time tying up loose ends in Missouri.
"We started planning for him to come back," she said.
That's when he heard he'd be deploying Jan. 10. He flew back to Onslow County Jan. 3. The couple had a week to live a lifetime.
"He told me he'd be gone for six months to a year, but he didn't think it would be a year," she said.
Nicolas and Marius' birthdays were just days apart in October, the couple had plans to celebrate both.
As it turned out, Marius' birthday passed without that big party. On Halloween, there was no trick-or-treating and Thanksgiving was barely acknowledged. There are few plans for Christmas. Facing holidays - days with so many plans and dreams attached - is still unbearable for Michelon.
"People say, 'You're young. You'll move on.' But it's not that easy. When you make that person your everything and you think about them all the time, when all of your mind and thoughts are on that person and that person is no longer there for you, you're like what do I do now," she said.
A loud boom
Michelon last heard from Nicolas on March 19. He called and said he could talk for a minute. They discussed potty training Marius.
"He said, 'Make sure you let him know that his daddy loves him,'" Michelon said. Not long after that, Michelon heard a loud boom in the background. "He said, 'I can't talk anymore. I've got to go.'"
The conversation left her worried. She contacted a few people she knew in the military for support. They reassured her that no news was good news. She tried to find comfort in that but on March 21, depression swept over her.
She thought it was hormones. She was five months pregnant with their second child.
"I was really sad and crying," she said.
On March 23, Michelon decided to go to her grandmother's house in Richlands. She needed the comfort of home. It was Sunday and they went to church that morning. Michelon sat in a pew in the back and cried.
She went back to her grandmother's house. She watched television and ate some dinner. Marius was watching a videotape.
Then she heard a car door slam. The sound - like the boom she heard on the phone a few days before - won't leave her.
The noise made her look out the window. She saw a white Seabreeze and three Marines heading toward the door.
"I yelled at the top of my lungs, 'Grandma.' She said, 'What baby?' I said, 'Grandma, he's dead.' She said, 'How do you know baby?' I said, 'There are three Marines.'"
It was 3:02 p.m.
Michelon's grandmother opened the front door. Michelon screamed, "You have the wrong house." One of them said, "Michelon Hodson?"
"Not my baby, you have the wrong house. You have the wrong house."
She wouldn't let the Marines in the house. She fell to her knees. She cried until her nose bled. The three Marines waited outside for an hour until she was ready.
"They were really nice and waited on me," she said. "They talked to me and told me what happened."
It took nine days for Nicolas' body to be returned to the United States. When Michelon saw him, he didn't look like himself. She didn't believe it was her husband.
Hubert Saunders from Saunders Funeral Home searched his body for identifying marks, such as birthmarks and tattoos to confirm his identity and bring some kind of peace to a grieving widow. It took Michelon until she left Coastal Veterans Cemetery to believe that it was Nicolas who was buried there.
Some days she still has her doubts.
"To this day, I still think he may walk through that door," she said. "I don't want to let go."
She remembers watching "Castaway" with Nicolas before he left for Iraq. In the movie, Tom Hanks' character gets stranded on a deserted island for years, and his fiancé thinks he's dead. She ends up marrying someone else.
After the movie was over, Nicolas asked her what she would do if that happened to him.
"I told him I'd wait," Michelon said. "Maybe that's why I can't move on. Maybe I'm waiting."
Contact Roselee Papandrea at rpapandrea@jdnews.com or at 353-1171, Ext. 238.
http://www.jacksonvilledailynews.com/SiteProcessor.cfm?Template=/GlobalTemplates/Details.cfm&StoryID=18918&Section=News
Sempers,
Roger
:marine:
December 24,2003
ROSELEE PAPANDREA
DAILY NEWS STAFF
They talked about debt-free days, birthday bashes, joint military retirements, traveling the world together and one day doting on grandchildren.
Nicolas and Michelon Hodson were young and in love.
Michelon tries to hide behind laughter as she remembers the dreams she shared with Nicolas before he left Camp Lejeune for the war in Iraq last January. But the memories and the grief that dwell in her heart now overwhelm her.
Her husband, a sergeant in the Marine Corps, died in the war. Michelon, 24, still isn't ready to let him go.
"Now, I feel like I'm living my dreams alone," she said.
"He was my joy. He made me laugh. When I was having a bad day, he made me laugh. Now that he's gone, my joy is gone."
Nicolas, a field wiremen assigned to 3rd Battalion, 2nd Marine Regiment, 2nd Marine Division, was riding in a convoy in southern Iraq at 3 a.m. on March 22. His military vehicle swerved and turned over. Three Marines were injured. Nicolas was killed at age 22.
Originally from Richlands, Michelon has made Jacksonville home - for now. She is trying to make a life for her sons Marius, 2, and Nicolas, 5 months.
She was pregnant with Nicolas when his father was killed in the war.
Most days, she keeps the curtains drawn and her house dark. Her children are the only light in her life, she said. One room in her house is dedicated to her husband and her attempt at finding peace. She calls it her meditation room.
The American flag that was draped over Nicolas' coffin is neatly folded and stored in a triangular wooden box. It sits along with a candle on an altar of sorts. A wooden globe and anchor, a helmet and a pair of her husband's boots - made of desert camouflage - sit in the center of the room.
It's a place where she goes to gather thoughts, search for answers and summon strength. It's where she attempts to rebuild herself.
But Michelon is no closer to moving on than she was the day she was told of her husband's death.
For now, she holds on tight to what she and her husband once had and the two people that will keep them bound forever - Marius and Nicolas. They will never know the husband their mother loved, the Marine who fought for his country or the father that thought the world of them but never got the chance to hold his youngest son.
Opposites attract
Michelon and Nicolas met more than three years ago in a club in Jacksonville, a few days before Michelon left for basic training in the Army. Originally from Smithville, Mo., Nicolas was stationed at Camp Lejeune.
"He was nowhere near my type, and I knew I was going to be leaving. I wasn't looking for someone," Michelon said.
But Nicolas was determined to be in Michelon's life. He drove to Subway in Richlands, where Michelon worked, and waited two hours for her to finish her shift. He told her he was going to write to her to help get her through basic training. He'd been through it himself. He knew it was tough.
He was tall and skinny. He said off-the-wall stuff. He babied Michelon. He was the life of the party. He had a goofy laugh.
"But I loved that tall skinny guy and that goofy laugh," she said, as tears dripped down her smiling face. "He just grew on me."
Their relationship developed fast. Before Michelon knew it, she was graduating from basic training in Oklahoma, and Nicolas was there to celebrate with her. While stationed at Fort Lee in Virginia, Michelon was homesick.
"I was a big ol' baby away from home," she said. "I'd call him and whine and complain. He drove all the way to Virginia to visit me. After that, we knew we pretty much wanted to be together."
They were married in June 2001, but Michelon was still stationed at Fort Bragg and Nicolas at Camp Lejeune.
"We burnt the road up seeing each other," she said and laughed.
In October 2001, Michelon gave birth to Marius. In October 2002, Nicolas' mother died of lung cancer. He had taken humanitarian leave so he could spend those last days with her and then spent time tying up loose ends in Missouri.
"We started planning for him to come back," she said.
That's when he heard he'd be deploying Jan. 10. He flew back to Onslow County Jan. 3. The couple had a week to live a lifetime.
"He told me he'd be gone for six months to a year, but he didn't think it would be a year," she said.
Nicolas and Marius' birthdays were just days apart in October, the couple had plans to celebrate both.
As it turned out, Marius' birthday passed without that big party. On Halloween, there was no trick-or-treating and Thanksgiving was barely acknowledged. There are few plans for Christmas. Facing holidays - days with so many plans and dreams attached - is still unbearable for Michelon.
"People say, 'You're young. You'll move on.' But it's not that easy. When you make that person your everything and you think about them all the time, when all of your mind and thoughts are on that person and that person is no longer there for you, you're like what do I do now," she said.
A loud boom
Michelon last heard from Nicolas on March 19. He called and said he could talk for a minute. They discussed potty training Marius.
"He said, 'Make sure you let him know that his daddy loves him,'" Michelon said. Not long after that, Michelon heard a loud boom in the background. "He said, 'I can't talk anymore. I've got to go.'"
The conversation left her worried. She contacted a few people she knew in the military for support. They reassured her that no news was good news. She tried to find comfort in that but on March 21, depression swept over her.
She thought it was hormones. She was five months pregnant with their second child.
"I was really sad and crying," she said.
On March 23, Michelon decided to go to her grandmother's house in Richlands. She needed the comfort of home. It was Sunday and they went to church that morning. Michelon sat in a pew in the back and cried.
She went back to her grandmother's house. She watched television and ate some dinner. Marius was watching a videotape.
Then she heard a car door slam. The sound - like the boom she heard on the phone a few days before - won't leave her.
The noise made her look out the window. She saw a white Seabreeze and three Marines heading toward the door.
"I yelled at the top of my lungs, 'Grandma.' She said, 'What baby?' I said, 'Grandma, he's dead.' She said, 'How do you know baby?' I said, 'There are three Marines.'"
It was 3:02 p.m.
Michelon's grandmother opened the front door. Michelon screamed, "You have the wrong house." One of them said, "Michelon Hodson?"
"Not my baby, you have the wrong house. You have the wrong house."
She wouldn't let the Marines in the house. She fell to her knees. She cried until her nose bled. The three Marines waited outside for an hour until she was ready.
"They were really nice and waited on me," she said. "They talked to me and told me what happened."
It took nine days for Nicolas' body to be returned to the United States. When Michelon saw him, he didn't look like himself. She didn't believe it was her husband.
Hubert Saunders from Saunders Funeral Home searched his body for identifying marks, such as birthmarks and tattoos to confirm his identity and bring some kind of peace to a grieving widow. It took Michelon until she left Coastal Veterans Cemetery to believe that it was Nicolas who was buried there.
Some days she still has her doubts.
"To this day, I still think he may walk through that door," she said. "I don't want to let go."
She remembers watching "Castaway" with Nicolas before he left for Iraq. In the movie, Tom Hanks' character gets stranded on a deserted island for years, and his fiancé thinks he's dead. She ends up marrying someone else.
After the movie was over, Nicolas asked her what she would do if that happened to him.
"I told him I'd wait," Michelon said. "Maybe that's why I can't move on. Maybe I'm waiting."
Contact Roselee Papandrea at rpapandrea@jdnews.com or at 353-1171, Ext. 238.
http://www.jacksonvilledailynews.com/SiteProcessor.cfm?Template=/GlobalTemplates/Details.cfm&StoryID=18918&Section=News
Sempers,
Roger
:marine: