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The Newsletter >
Memorial
May 26, 2009
I remember when our oldest son returned from Iraq for the first time. The passengers on his flight allowed him to disembark first, and then they stayed back to watch as family and friends welcomed our soldier home from the war. Strangers wept openly.
I remember when our soldier came home from his second deployment, arriving at our front door by taxi from the airport. The taxi driver, an immigrant to this country, waited and watched, as I threw open our front door and held my soldier in my arms. I do not know if the taxi driver wept. Perhaps.
I remember the bracelet Aric wore with the names of his fallen friends on it, and how members of our extended family used words like genocide in his presence when discussing our son’s deployment and our Army's efforts in Iraq. I remember crying in frustration and rage.
I remember getting the phone call from Iraq telling me that Aric had been injured while doing his job during his third deployment, and I remember the flight to San Antonio so that I could put a mother’s hands on my soldier and know, for myself, that he would be okay. There were tears and prayers involved.
I remember my husband telling me of a flight he was on with a fallen soldier, and how everyone on the plane was asked to wait while they unloaded the young soldier’s coffin. The family waited on the tarmac for their son and brother, and Sherwood remembered that at the time he wondered if he would know which one of the women was the soldier’s mother.
He said, “I knew as soon as the family saw that coffin which one was his mother. I knew at once.” I still weep for her.
I remember that Senator Obama voted against funds for “the surge” that later proved the turning point in the war in Iraq, because as he and Senator Reed put it, “The war is lost.” I remember President Obama recently thanking the soldiers at Walter Reed hospital for “their sacrifice,” and “the great gift they had given the people of Iraq,” the gift of “democracy.” I try not to weep for our nation and its leaders and their lack of vision.
I remember MoveOn.org and the “peace” protesters claiming that our soldiers were butchering innocent Iraq’s and that our soldiers were the “real” terrorists.
I remember people talking about “supporting” the soldiers but not their mission.
I remember the woman who told me that my son would probably come home from the war and commit suicide like those Vietnam vets did.
I remember the woman who said, “It was all pointless. There weren’t any weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.”
I remember answering, “And there never will be! My son did that! My son!”
I remember Aric saying, "Please tell everyone that the war is over. We have won this war. No one seems to care. Please tell them, Mom."
I remember it all.
And I promise that I will not forget.
Linda L. Zern (Proud Mother of an American Freedom Fighter)
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