Monday: This "posting" will not come near to describing the gravity or tragedy of the reality of veteran suicide; but I need to write something, however inadequate, to journal it in this blog of mine.
My son, Jesse, is an Army veteran of the Iraqi "War Against Terror" that ensued shortly after 9/11 2001. Jesse didn't enlist until 2006; but once he did, and survived the horror of boot camp, he served our country for six years--including 15 months in Baghdad. He and his family returned home to Michigan in 2013, his discharge from the Army being quite complicated, but entirely honorable and justified.
In the last half decade or so, Jesse has been quite active in local Veteran's affairs--serving on various committees, and advocating for homeless and/or abused/neglected local veterans. Last year, when he saw the field of crosses on display right off the north 131, he got involved in what is known as the "22-a-Day" association (?) and this year is helping to sponsor/support this effort. The number 22 represents 22 human beings, veterans, who choose to end their lives every single day in our country. Every single day.
I went with Jesse to the site where the crosses are being erected every day at noon. You see, for the next few weeks, 22 crosses are being nailed into the ground to honor these desperate men and women who lost all hope and killed themselves. A lot of the crosses have names and dates written on them--although not all the crosses do--along with words of remembrance and love. By the end of this memorial time, this entire field (in both directions) will be filled with crosses . . . and heart-wrenching loss.
Here are a few photos of today's laying of crosses ...
"Jesse Pahman spent six-and-a-half years in the Army, losing fellow soldiers to both combat and suicide. He got involved after seeing these crosses off the road last year, remembering a sergeant he connected with over a love of cars. Pahman says the possibility of death was always there in combat, but he never considered it could happen after the fighting stopped.
'I remember one evening I was at home having a smoke in my backyard, and I got a call, he said. Sgt. Marine Kahn killed himself...it just gutted me. He says the weight of combat rests especially hard on Vietnam veterans. Pahman feels we never truly welcomed them home, and described how airmen carried out bombing runs without guided missiles. It was, "we need to take out that bridge." You might take out half a small village, and they certainly start thinking about, "those people didn't deserve to die," he said. He wants anyone who knows a veteran to be comfortable speaking with them openly about their struggles and that the best way to start the conversation is to let them know they won't be judged by their wartime experiences.
"It needs to be with somebody who can say, 'you know what? I understand,'" Pahman said. "'You took a lot of lives. That was your job. I'm not going to hold that against you.’"
I am proud of Jesse's work with the veterans. It is difficult in many ways and on various levels, but he continues to press on with his contribution to them.
Hopelessness grips a lot of people from all backgrounds. I have been there too; although during the darkness of the despair I faced, I didn't share it with anyone--except I did talk to the Lord about it. It was only by His incredible grace that I didn't end my life on more than one occasion. I'm so thankful that my HOPE is in the Lord, and that He promises to never leave or forsake me.
The closing ceremony for "22-a-Day" is Saturday, August 9. I plan to attend and pay honor to these folk and to pray for the ones they left behind.
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