Memories of loss, and prayers for others

Watching and reading about the war with Iran, I cannot help but go back into my memory to when I was a young child in second grade in March 1968 as the Vietnam War was raging in Southeast Asia. This was one of the most pivotal and tumultuous months of the war, in the immediate, chaotic aftermath of the Tet Offensive.

I still recall the phone ringing at our home on a Saturday morning. A U.S. Army representative informed my father that Spec. 4th Class U.S. Army Joseph F. Schlick, my uncle, then only 20 years old, had been killed. Being young, I did not understand why my mother was in her bedroom crying that day. I had to bring a note to school to explain that I would be absent to attend my uncle’s funeral. The teacher asked for a moment of silence. I am unsure If any of us in that classroom fully understood what was happening.

The funeral bells at my Catholic church tolled as the flag-draped casket was carried into the church by helmeted Army soldiers. There was a 21-gun salute at the cemetery. He left behind his wife and his daughter he would never hold in his arms who was born while he was overseas.

I remember this as our country now seems to be slowly getting mired into another war that hopefully will not last too long.

I remember hearing my grandfather whisper every time we passed the cemetery, “Oh, my poor Joey. Look what they did to him.” Tears would be visible on his cheek. He would visit the cemetery often and carried water jugs on the back seat floor of the car to water the flowers for his son’s grave. He never really overcame the loss.

May we hope that more people are not sacrificed for this war. I pray it ends soon.

Kevin Davis

Carol Stream