Seven Years and Seven Months - and Missing Him on Veteran's Day

I don't know whether it's because of Veteran's Day or some other unconscious reason, but I've been missing Leif terribly the past two days.

Veteran's Day is so significant because Leif always wanted to serve his country. He wanted to be a pilot but that was denied to him by his poor eyesight. His second choice was to be an Air Force Officer, nonpilot. But that was denied to him because of a failed muscle. His third choice was an army career, but that was denied to him by asthma despite his excellence as a machine gunner.

Being in a soldier, defending his country and his beloved Constitution, was an integral part of his identity. It never left him, even when he was forced into medical retirement from the army after three and a half years of service. It will always be his identity.

Veteran's Day comes this year on the heels of seven years and seven months since he died. It is hard to realize it's been that long. It seems only yesterday he was sitting at my kitchen table, long legs stretched out, talking politics. We still miss him every day, and never know what will trigger an attack of sadness or nostalgia. . . something we see in a movie, something on television, a car like his driving past, someone on a motorcycle, the political process he would have loved to discuss, the new James Bond movie he would have loved to see.

It's hard not being able to share those things with him. It's hard not knowing what to do with what I still have of his things. I finally parted with his bass guitar and his Kramer Floyd Rose guitar. It took me over seven years to do it. My conscious mind knows he isn't coming back for them, but the hidden mind does not accept that. Somewhere in my unconscious it feels deeply wrong and disloyal to sell his prized possessions.

I am proud of Leif's service. Proud that he managed to get through tough infantry basic training on a broken foot. Proud of his tall and soldierly bearing. Proud of his skills. Proud that he persevered even when asthma made it hard for him to breath or run. Proud that he cared about his country. Proud that the studied the Constitution and believed in it, protecting it, from all enemies, foreign and domestic.

I miss you, my son!

Whimsical

Leif was funny. He was whimsical. He was silly. He was a cut-up. At least, he was all of those things when he wasn't morose, withdrawn or depressed. How well I remember the times when he was enjoying himself and having fun acting silly.

These days, I seem to alternate between sadness and missing him, and smiling over memories like this one.

He graduated from Kansas State University in May 2003, ten years after he graduated from high school. It took him that long because he spent a part of those years in the U.S. Army.

He came home from the army in 2001 a depressed and broken man, but by the time he graduated from KSU, he was so much healthier in mind and body. He was looking good, feeling good, felt he had a future. I think he was at his handsomest in that year of 2003, and my favorite photos of him are from that year.

It was also the year in which he met J. and was so very much in love, and I'm sure that also helped account for his happiness and glowing good looks that fall, though in this cute picture, he had not yet met her.

It was taken in the back yard of our old stone house. He was acting silly with the tassel on his graduation cap, blowing on it and letting it settle on and tickle his nose. I love the look on his face, looking at the tassel as he gently blows on it, the ends of it splayed around his nose, and that hint of a smile with the cute dimples just showing. How I WISH he could have continued to be that happy, whimsical, silly man. 

Proud of Leif on Veteran's Day

Thinking of Leif on this Veteran's Day, wishing he had been able to have the army career he hoped for instead of being medically retired as a disabled vet, proud of him for his service and his excellence as a machine gunner, proud of him for his devotion to the Constitution.

Leif's thoughts on infantry training and the army

Leif had such divided thoughts about the army and his military service. He was deeply devoted to our country and took very seriously his oath to defend it from all enemies, foreign and domestic. He had a reverence for our Constitution.

He was both enormously proud of his military service and very angry and how he was treated because of his asthma. He had leaders he liked and highly respected (though they are not mentioned in the piece below) and those he hated -- the ones he saw as petty dictators who delighted in humiliating soldiers, particularly his best friend; those he felt were careerists more interested in promotion than in the soldiers in the command.

His view of the army was through the lens of his unit and its operations, a micro view, to be sure, but it gives a window into a soldier's experience. Despite his biting criticism of their training (only being allowed to actually fire their weapons twice a year, for instance) and inefficiency, he was deeply proud of the soldiers with whom he served and continued to identify himself as a member of that infantry brotherhood all his life.

What made him so angry was what he continually saw as the monumental wastes of time, when he and the other soldiers had no more assigned tasks, past the end of the duty day, but were not dismissed to go home and had to just sit in the day room for an hour or hours. He hated the busywork that had them polishing floors rather than training, and with his quick mind and gift for strategy, felt that much of the training was wasteful marching rather than learning useful battle skills.

The piece below was written to his brother on February 8, 2001, in email he sent to me to be forwarded. It came in answer to his brother's thoughts on job satisfaction in the Air Force. Leif had been in the army for three years at that point and was deeply unhappy. It was during the period after he returned from service in Bosnia to find that his marriage was over, his health was ruined, and although he was the best machine gunner in the battalion (and had the awards for it) and could meet the requirements of the army PT (physical training test), he was treated abusively and denied promotion and awards because of his asthma, which made him unable to run as fast as that leader wanted his men to run. He was a deeply unhappy man when he wrote this, but it accurately reflects his feelings at the time. He was medically retired from the army a few months later.

During his service in Bosnia, he was not unhappy and he did feel they had a useful mission, and that things went much better when they did have a clear military mission. However, at that time, he still felt that mission had not been a clear benefit to the citizens of the USA or the world. I don't know whether he felt differently about it over the years. He was proud of that service.

With that background in mind, here are his thoughts from early 2001.

The photo of him was taken sitting on his cot in the first camp he was in when he went to Bosnia. I don't know who took it, but it was another soldier in his unit. The date on the photo is September 13, 1999. He was moved from camp to camp during the Bosnia duty. Because of his pose, I hesitated to post this photo, but it is surely no secret that this gesture is used, and the photo seems to fit the sentiments expressed below.

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First off, You Weenie! Oh the horror, no shower for 33 hours! Try 33 days, you wimp.

But otherwise I must say that I can in no way whatsoever relate to what you are talking about. As a member of the line infantry, or nation's first line of defense (against whatever your compadres failed to shoot down or bomb into oblivion), I have seen a lot of operations. Many, if not all, cost the taxpayer a very pretty penny. And I have yet to see or be able to say that they served any purpose other than to provide a nice bullet for some officer's OER*.

Hundreds of thousands, even millions, are spent on our training and deployments but I cannot say that we have done a single thing that truly benefited this nation or made us more prepared for war, at least not in any proportion with the monetary expenditure that said exercises required. 

From my limited experience with the Air force, I wish that they could be commissioned to reorganize/realign the army. In Bosnia we spend over a million dollars a day to operate one camp. And in seven months I could not give you one example of a day that I felt I had made a difference.

Job satisfaction? That is a concept so alien to me that I must recall the days when I was a pizza delivery driver, for I made much more difference in the quality of life of the American citizen by getting that pizza to a hungry customer On Time than I did to the people of the world as a soldier in the United States infantry.

Perhaps it is simply the fact that we exist for the sole purpose of all out war and when no such war exists there is no secondary purpose to which our leadership can divert us. Our training is contrived and artificial. Our days are an endless monotony of wasted time and an apparent inability to deal with the "difficult" tasks of peace time life, a waste that only furthers our contempt for the nature of the army. Strangely, the ineptitude of our organization in peace time does not make me fear for war. In war there is no time for career-minded ambition. No worries about the luster of the floors. No luxury of petty superiority.

When those things leave us and a real challenge arrives, we seem to posses the ability to pull together and work toward the common purposes of victory and survival. However, in time of peace we seem to lose our way and become distracted with such frivolous and meaningless pursuits as would befit a janitor or gardener, not the noble warriors that defend our great nation. Countless dollars are spent on floor wax and training exercises that teach us nothing except how to walk blindly with the confidence of a boxer that has never lost a fight. Our budget allows us to perform multi-million-dollar operations that teach us nothing and then deny us the opportunity to fire our rifles more than twice a year.

The sort of efficiency you described is simply impossible in the army. Even a rapid deployment force would take days just to prep and plan for such an operation. Our army is sick. No one on the outside can see its ailments for we proud men hide our flaws andshield our egos from the light of day. And like a proud man our army will not seek adoctor's care.

Only when it collapses will an outsider see how it has deteriorated. Only then, in our darkest hour, when this 'machine' of incompetence and misdirection has broken down will we be able to start again and build the army of tomorrow. Until then our only satisfaction will lie in the fact that no matter how flawed or pointless the endeavors that may fill the interlude between wars, we few men and women of the United States Army volunteered to defend this great nation against all enemies foreign and domestic should she ever need to call on us.

*OER = Officer Efficiency Report (job evaluation for promotion purposes)

Brandy in a glass "gun" bottle

Another thing that made both of us think of Leif in Russia was this gun-shaped bottle of liquor. Leif would have been able to identify the gun, which I think is a Kalashnikov AK-47, Russian army rifle, and probably figure out what's in it. I think it's probably brandy from Armenia. Leif would have thought a rifle-shaped bottle a lot of fun and would have kept it as a souvenir if he'd been there. The cost is about $31. Leif loved both guns and alcohol, both to his detriment. They brought him a lot of pleasure, but in the end, also harmed his health and the combination most certainly brought about his death, so it's a bittersweet thing for me to see something like this I know he would have found a delight and amusement.

Memorial Day

Remembering Leif and all his fallen comrades in arms on this Memorial Day, those who fell in battle, those killed by IEDs, those who came home broken in body or spirit who suffer for their service to our country.

Remembering Leif's service to our country and the price he paid for it.

Remembering all the families dealing with the loss or injury of a loved one.

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The photo is of the bugler who played Taps at Leif's military honors memorial service at Bay Pines National Cemetery in St. Petersburg, Florida on April 29, 2008.

A Brotherhood Leif Understood

Yesterday we had a technician here to do the annual maintenance on the air conditioning system. When he was finished, Peter told him to go into my office where I was writing a check for the service. He immediately noticed the flag case with the folded flag, the ceremonial shell casings and Leif's photos and insignia. He could have chosen to ignore it. He could have said nothing, but he didn't. He said, "Did you lose a son?"

I was surprised. I'm not used to that happening. I keep Leif's photo, the flag case and the memorial candles from Darlene and Marcus and Cordula and her family in my office, not on "public" display in the living room, so it's rare than anyone but a family member sees them. It's a private area for private feelings. But here he was, this stranger, who recognized what that flag case meant and asked me about it. I told him yes, but that he was not killed in battle. I didn't go into detail. In his own way, Leif was killed in battle, his battle with his own demons, his loneliness, his problems. I just said he was a disabled vet. I didn't have to say more.

This man expressed condolences and said he had been in the army for 8 years, had been to Afghanistan. He recognized Leif's insignia, said, "Tenth Mountain Division, right?" He said he had been part of a medevac team and told a little bit about it.

Leif would have liked to talk to him, would have liked to have shared stories with a brother in arms. He would have respected anyone who did medical evacuations.

I hope this young man is whole in body and soul and not suffering from PTSD or depression. I thank him for noticing my son and saying something. It brought tears to my eyes, partly out of a wave of sadness, and partly out of a feeling of some kind of gratitude that someone had noticed Leif and talked to me about it.

I Will Remember Him Always

What will I remember about my Leif? Everything.

I will remember the beautiful child that none of us realized was as vulnerable as he was. I will remember the tall, strong boy and his wonderful smile. I will remember how frustrated he could get when he wasn't able to make his hands do what his mind envisioned.

I will remember the brilliant mind and incredible memory my son had, and how we recognized it when he was so young.

I will remember the soccer player who could boot the ball three-fourths of the way down the field.

I will remember the teen who was tall and slim, a black belt in judo, a guitar player, a singer. I will remember his as Kenicke in "Grease," with all the girls screaming for him. I will remember him graduating from high school.

I will remember the handsome young man who married when he was only twenty years old and the devastated man who nearly took his life when his marriage failed.

I will remember the proud, tall soldier who graduated from infantry basic training and who was proud of his ability with a machine gun, and the broken soldier who was medically retired from the army when he was only twenty-six years old.

I will remember the recovering man who graduated from college and was proud of his new car.

I remember how happy he was when he fell in love again, and how utterly devastated he was when she left him, how I was worried he would not survive.

I remember him on his motorcycles, the three different ones he owned in his lifetime, the ones he drove far too fast, and I remember him in the hospital after the accident he had.

I remember how he loved cars and his RX-7s and RX-8, especially the RX-8, how he drove like a race car driver, what he really always wanted to be.

I remember him helping us with the house and yard, helping us move. I remember him helping my mother with her computer.

I remember him playing chess with Madeleine and being silly with Aly.

I remember him being in debt and spending money foolishly.

I remember him being in dark moods and fearing for him.

I remember his guns, his music collection, his passion for technology and science fiction.

I remember his hugs, his smiles.

I remember how desperately he needed and searched for love.

I remember how Leif wanted to be the hero, that he was the gentle giant who would fight to defend his family, his friends, his country. I remember his personal code was to never show weakness, and how he kept his deep and towering emotions inside. I remember how he wanted to be needed, to be respected and loved.

I remember bringing him into the world full of hope for him. It is hard to accept that our dreams for Leif will never be realized, that he will never find his purpose and defeat his demons, that he will never have a family, that he will never be there for a birthday or a Christmas, never be there to teach us about the latest technology and set things up for us, never again tease me about driving like an old lady.

it will always be hard to know and remember that our love was not enough to save him, that no matter what I tried, I could not help him be happy, or take away his pain.

I remember that in many ways, he lived a life rich in experience, and we tried hard to provide some of those riches of experience, but I also remember that his life was drowned in depression and loneliness.In the end, he was overwhelmed.

I remember how he wanted to be a hero, wanted to be needed, wanted to be strong. I rememberhow, through so many disappointments and crises, he held his head high and did not let others see his pain and frustration. Finally, it was too much. I will remember how he bore that burden until the end.

Most of all, I remember how much I loved him. I love him still. I will always love him.
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This photo was taken of Leif on Bellows Beach on the island of Oahu in Hawaii, one of his favorite places. It was in August 1989 when he was fourteen-and-a-half. It was then he was reading Orson Scott Card's "Ender's Game" with such deep and avid interest.

Looking for Love - Love Lost - What Marriage Meant to Leif

When Leif moved to Florida in March 2005, at first things really were going well for him. Once he found a job and began dating again (after a year of not dating in Kansas when J. left him and he was miserable and depressed), and bought a new motorcycle and loved riding it, for a time he seemed to be happier and more content. However, he was still looking for love and companionship, trying to find people through Match.com and eharmony, as well as other dating services. He wasn't finding anyone he felt more than a casual interest in until someone who had seen his Match profile struck up an email correspondence with him beginning in June 2005. The interesting thing about this correspondence is how much Leif wrote. Leif usually wrote curt, short, utilitarian emails. The exceptions were when he was involved with a woman he cared deeply about, or when he was writing about one of them to me.

As a part of this correspondence, Leif wrote to this woman, who had hadn't yet met, about what love, marriage and friendship meant to him. It is poignant, revealing, and, given what ultimately happened in the last three years of his life, infinitely sad. Here it is in his own words. This was written, as was most of his most revealing communication, in the wee hours of the morning, and sent at 4:35 a.m. on Sunday, July 10, 2005. He wanted something meaningful and committed, but he never found it. I think what he writes about his feelings in this email, those he felt at the end of his army career when he was alone, must have been again true in the last days of his life.

I want a marriage that means something, a real partnership and a loving commitment to each other. I am tired of fair weather friends that are only there for you as long as it is to their advantage but leave you as soon as it is not. I wonder does anyone ever take that vow "for better or for worse" seriously anymore? I have a big thing about promises. If I am not prepared to keep a promise I won't make it, even if I think I want to fulfill it, if I am not sureI actually can, I will not make a promise. I will not commit to something I am not sure I can hold true to. I wish others were the same. I made a promise when I got married and I took it seriously and took a lot of abuse due to that promise, but my wife did not take it seriously and bailed when things got "Worse." Considering that I had always been the knight in shining armor rescuing her, the idea that she could no longer need me and leave me when she was the weak one hurt a lot.

You want to know something about me that few people know? Well, here is a little known fact. I am generally considered to be the "Rock," the unshakable, confident, stable man that was immune to stress and that nothing bothered me. Many people really believed that. What few know is that at the end of my time with my ex wife and as my army career was in decline, I was so miserable and unhappy and hurt that I was genuinely suicidal. Every day was nothing but another 24 hours of suffering and humiliation and I just wanted it to stop. I was sick, hurt, lonely and emotionally destitute. My wife had left me and I was stuck in a miserable place I hated with no friends and a job that punished me, which I could not quit. There was no way out and I seriously was at the point that I had planned out exactly how I was going to kill myself and how to ensure that it would work, and that I couldn't survive and be one of those horrible cases of disfigured attemtped suicides.

Ultimately, I obvioulsly did not go through with it. I wanted a release from the misery but I simply couldn't do it because while I had no concern for myself I knew how badly it would hurt the people who would survive me, namely my parents and the friend who had left his shotgun I was going to use at my house. My own compassion for them drove me to endure each day that followed until I escaped the situation. I recovered and I am now much happier. I am so glad I was not foolish enough to succumb to my weaknesses. I am loving life today and everything has turned around.

I don't want to bring you down or bum you out but I wanted to give you some insight into me and how important loyalty and reliability are to me. Save for my parents, I have never had anyone that I could count on to be there for the rest of my life. I have never known any friend that loved me and cared for me and would be there for me through thick and thin, wanting nothing in return but my friendship. I want that.

They say most men fear commitment. I have never known commitment. I have dreamed of it and desired it but never experienced it. The ideal of forever is alien to me. Perhaps most men can't see this far and don't see the value in such things but I see the old men that come into my store alone and I pity them and wonder If I will be one of them. I wonder who will love me when I am old and gray and wrinkled? Will I die alone? If not, who wil be there when I die? Will anyone mourn my passing? Will it matter that I lived?

I head an interesting discussion of the idea of marriage and its merits. One person said that it is not really necessary but what it really means is that we are agreeing to be witnesses to each others lives. In the vastness of all humanity what, meaning does one life make? What is one person in 6 billion? Who cares? Marriage is about two people promising to care about each others lives and to witness them.

Wow, I am getting side tracked, but I hope that gives you some insight into what I value and why.

Oh, Leif, yes, it mattered that you lived! It mattered to me, and always will.

And it mattered to many others. How could you not know?

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The photo is one Leif took of himself, oddly enough in his bathroom, with his Treo phone, to send to a woman on Match.com who requested a photo. It was taken on March 30, 2005, about three weeks after he moved to Florida.

His Body Betrayed Him Again and Again

Tall, powerful, seemingly athletic and "indestructible," Leif looked like a formidably fit young man, but sadly his body seemed destined to betray him and ruin his sports and career choices.

It began with his eyes, and finding out that he was nearsighted and could not pass a flight physical so that he could aim for a career as a military pilot. I've posted the essay he wrote about that when he was fourteen.

Next he had to quit playing soccer, a game he had loved for ten years, when he couldn't immediately deal with the heat and humidity in Puerto Rico and then sprained his ankle.

I think those were big disappointments for him, but he recovered and pressed on. The next disappointment was when he gave up his dream of becoming an Air Force officer when he pulled a muscle in his groin and couldn't do the situps to pass the physical fitness test at ROTC summer camp.

Again he switched gears and tried something else. He enlisted in the infantry and had to complete basic training with a broken foot after another cadet fell on it during first aid training.

He might have made it, though, had not something he was exposed to caused him to develop asthma, which made it very hard for him to run with his huge and heavy pack and weapon. Ultimately, he was medically retired from the army at the age of 25. That diagnosis also meant he had to give up his other chosen careers that required him to have a fitness level and ability to run . . . law enforcement careers. I think he also lost something important to him, the ability to serve his country.

I think he had resigned himself to the loss of those options, but he never really found a substitute, nothing he felt committed to and willing to really sink himself into. He wanted to be a hero, but his body failed him.

I still have his army boots in my closet. He walked and ran a long way in those boots, even with his asthma, trying desperately to do it. After he got out of the army and came back to Kansas, I remember one day when he wore those boots to walk all the way out to Tuttle Creek Lake, a distance of over five miles each way. He left the army in May 2001 and many of the clothes and shoes he'd had were long gone, discarded, but his combat boots were still there when he died seven years later, and so were his uniforms. Despite the misery of his last year in the army, they must have held a sentimental attachment for him. Leif wasn't one to keep things unless he wanted them around.

I look at this photo of him in December 1992, when he was halfway through his senior year of high school, and see a very slender and rather brooding young man, though that wasn't his usual aspect at that time. What was he thinking?

In one of his online dating profiles, he was asked what he thought his best feature was. He answered, his lips, and I think you can see why in this photo, although since he isn't smiling, you can't see the cute dimples that charmed everyone. He's wearing two earrings in this photo. In those days, he enjoyed wearing earrings and necklaces.

There was still so much hope in 1992, for him, for all of us. He turned 18 a month later.
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The photo was taken in our old stone house.

A Few Last Photos of Leif in Uniform in 1998

I think these were taken when Leif was in either Azerbaijan or Uzbekistan with UN exercises in September 1998. You can see that he still has that jaunty pride about him, that confidence, and that he was still enjoying life and even the army. How I wish he had been able to continue that way. I will always wonder what happened to trigger the asthma that ruined his life in the army and that as a possible career. He said that when they were in Uzbekistan they were down in the sand breathing dust and sand for two weeks and i've always wondered if that was what started it. We will never know.

I still have his boots, a pair of his BDUs (known as fatigues in "my day") and his dress greens (Class A uniform) in my closet and his dog tags hanging in my bedroom. If he had a child, I would pass them on, but for now, they are just another memory for me, evidence of a period of his life along with so many other things of his I don't know what to do with. You can sell a car, but what do you with personal items like that? I gave away his clothes and shoes to a church thrift shop that helps migrant workers though Peter W. saved some of Leif's shirts, but the uniform seemed somehow significant, far more significant than a regular civilian shirt or pants. The uniform signifies his service to our country and something he identified with more deeply that most people could ever understand.

Leif in Desert Camouflage Uniform Circa 1999

I don't know for sure where these photos of Leif in DCUs (desert camouflage uniform were taken. They are the only ones in the pile of photos I found scattered loose in a box of his things. In the others, he is wearing the usual green BDUs (battle dress uniform). To my knowledge, the only time he was in a desert was when they went for the UN exercises in Azerbaijan and Uzbekistan, but this could have been part of a training mission before going overseas. The third photo of him standing with his machine gun and ammo belts over his shoulders, was taken in what appears to be a staging area for moving out, either to the field or to transportation elsewhere. His huge and heavy pack was on the floor near him, but there was a large floor fan in that part of the photo and I cropped it out.

Leif, as an infantry soldier, had to carry an extremely heavy load. I can't remember the exact amount but I think Leif told me that with his pack and his machine gun he was carrying his own weight and he had to be able to march for miles and even to run with that amount of weight on him. The machine gun was considerably heavier than the normal M-16 rifle.

These are also the only photos that show Leif with his face camouflaged. The reason the top of his forehead is isn't made up is because it would have been covered by his helmet or cap.

I can place the photos are pre-2000 because by that time he was shaving his head. He still had hair in 1999.

LIke many of the other army photos of Leif, these originally showed other men in his unit but I don't know who they are and don't have their permission to post their photos.

Posting Leif's photos showing only him makes it possible to focus on him, but in another way it gives a false picture, as though he was always alone. Instead he was often with others and interacting with them.

Leif was a proud soldier and deeply identified himself as a soldier. It wasn't until the last year he was in the army, suffering from asthma and treated as though he were a malingerer and denied the promotion he was due and medals he earned that he became discouraged, depressed and demoralized.

He was the best gunner in the battalion. It should have been his place to shine. He should have been promoted and been able to use his fine leadership abilities. So many times, his hopes and dreams were dashed.

Leif With an Accoustic Guitar - circa 1999

I keep discovering new things about Leif. I'm sure that for everyone we think we know, there are many things that we don't know and probably never will. Many families seem destined to learn new things about their deceased loved ones, sometimes secrets they wanted to hide, sometimes just interesting tidbits that round out our image of the person we have lost, and sometimes, intimate details of their lives that would have remained private but for death.

I knew Leif played the electric guitar, and that he had four of them. We gave three of them to him, and he made the fourth. I posted photos of them on this blog long ago, as well as photos of him playing in a band at Antilles HIgh School. However, as far as I know, he never had an acoustic guitar or any interest in playing one. Therefore, I was quite surprised to find these two photos of him clearly playing someone's acoustic guitar.

The photos were of several guys, dressed informally, sitting on folding chairs in what appears to be a basement or garage or some such, with a concrete floor. They have beers. I don't know any of them. The photos were mixed in with photos from the time he was in the Army, so I'm guessing they are Army buddies, but whether this was taken at Fort Drum or while he was in Bosnia I don't know. The only clue about the time frame is his hair. It's a military haircut and he hadn't yet started shaving his head, so I'm guessing it was taken either in late 1998 or in 1999.

I find myself wondering whether he was also singing or what they were all doing. Leif had a great singing voice, but the only time I ever heard him sing was when he was playing the part of Kenicke in the Antilles High School production of "Grease."

Leif has considerable musical talent, a characteristic he shared with both me and my father, his grandfather, but like me, he didn't keep up with his instrumental music as he got into adulthood, unlike my father, who continued to play piano all of his life.

Leif Fighting for the Right of Young Soldiers to Drink

Leif rarely wrote long emails or sent letters to politicians, but there were occasions when he was sufficiently aroused and incensed to do so. The day after his 29th birthday was one of those occasions when he was moved to send a long, passionate letter to Kansas Senator Brownback.

Anyone who knew Leif knows how much he enjoyed beer and Leif well knew how much his soldier comrades in arms enjoyed them, too. It was his passion about what they enjoyed, and what he felt was a demeaning injustice that moved him to write.

The photo of him with the beer stein was taken at a family gathering on July 29, 2004, exactly six months after he wrote this.
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From: "Leif Garretson"
Date: Thu Jan 29, 2004 23:56:07 US/Central
Subject: 18 old enough?

Dear Senator Brownback,

I am writing to you after years of stewing but have been driven by a moment of livid inspiration. I will admit that at the time I am writing this I am a bit intoxicated. However, that should have little bearing on the validity of my claim, a claim that has to do with the very right of certain Americans to enjoy such pleasures. I am Veteran. I served in the US Army infantry, 2nd batallion, 87th INF, out of Ft Drum New York. I spent time in Bosnia and the Middle East. I served my coutry with pride until I was medically retired for asthma in 2001. I still have several friends on active duty. Many of whom are being sent to Iraq.

Another important fact is that Yesterday was my 29th Birthday. This is significant in my mind because many people petition for laws or policies that affect them but few campaign for others. In this case I do campaign for others and I do so out of a matter of principal and justice not out of a desire for self gain.

So what has me writing to you tonight? Well, I was at my father's house tonight, who is also a 24 year veteran of the US ARMY and we were watching the Channel 11 News Hour with Jim Lehrer, or whatever it is. I am not sure. The point being that they displayed the Honor Roll of servicemen that died in Iraq today.

The first man listed, whose name I regrettably do not remember, yet who I Salute none the less, was 20 years old. This upset me and I will not equivocate when I say that I felt a flush of emotion that frankly pissed me off.

This was a MAN!! With a capital M. A service MAN!!! A MAN that volunteered to serve his country. A MAN that was sent to war by his president. A MAN that was old enough to VOTE for that president. A MAN that was considered old enough to carry an automatic weapon. A MAN that was entrusted with the lives of his fellow soldiers. A MAN that was trusted with thousands if not tens of thousands of dollars of equipment. Yet this MAN could not be trusted to have a beer at the local pub with his squad mates.

HOW WRONG IS THAT????

Our country considers him enough of a man to enlist. Enough of a man to fight for his country. Enough of a man to leave his loved ones behind at the will of our president. Enough of a man to carry a machinegun. Enough of a man to kill in the name of America. Enough of a man to DIE!!! in the name of America.!!!! Yet we do not consider him enough of a man to decide if he can have a drink? We trust him to decide if a living human being lives or dies in Iraq per the Rules of Engagement but we do not trust him to decide if he can have a Budweiser after work.

I am well of age to drink myself. This no longer affects me. But nevertheless I find this morally objectionable to think that MEN have died for this country that could not even have beer with their unit before they deployed. That there are men today that are lying wounded in VA hospitals that are not old enough to have a drink when they are released. But they were old enough to take a bullet for the good ole' USA.

I find it hypocritical and morally reprehensible for us to allow these men to go to war, to their deaths, for a country that claims they are not mature enough to buy themselves a beer when they are old enough to die to protect your freedom and mine. These MEN defend our freedoms to enjoy ourselves and the idea that these MEN should not enjoy the very freedoms that they purchase for us at the cost of their very lives is morally reprehensible.

Therefore I ask that you, Senator, propose a bill that would lower the drinking age to 18 years of age. If a Man or woman is old enough to go to war and to kill and die for this country, they certainly should be old enought to enjoy a drink before they do so. Those of us "of Age" that sit here safe in America can do so when we choose, thankful that we are not across an ocean sweating in the sand. Yet no small number of men over there defending our right to do so do not share that same right. And that, Dear Senator, is Wrong.

Thank You,

Leif Garretson

Leif the Photographer

When Leif was in junior high school in Highland Park, he started on four new interests that consumed him, learning to play the electric guitar, building and running radio controlled model cars, computers, and photography. The computer wasn't completely new, since we'd had one in Japan and Hawaii, but it was in Illinois that his interest blossomed and he also began using it for school assignments. I've already written about the RC cars and his guitars.

There was a camera shop in Highland Park that also sold used cameras. I was doing a lot of photography for publication in those days, as well as the usual family photos, and Leif was with me at times when I went to the camera shop to request special processing. My entire family seems to have the photography bug, at least in my generation, and Peter W. has it as well. I think it rubbed off on Leif. He spotted a Minolta 7000 SLR camera that he wanted and lobbied hard to get it as a gift. The set was considerably more expensive than what we usually spent for either Christmas or birthday for our sons, and I wasn't sure that expensive a camera was a good idea for a young teen. However, Leif was very technically savvy, and had some obvious artistic talent, and we wondered whether this might prove to be a really good thing for him. In the end, we made one of our many bargains with him. He would get the camera and the superb MD lens that came with it, one which went from wide angle to a short telephoto, and a flash apparatus as well, but they were for both Christmas and birthday, and he had to work off the remainder of the price that was above our gift budget.

The first couple of years he had the camera, he took quite a few rolls of film. His favorite subjects in those days were cool sports cars, whether seen on the street or at a car show, and our cat, Scamp. He also liked photographing ultramodern architecture. When we moved to Puerto Rico after his freshman year of high school, he photographed his first love, K., when they were on a date, and his friends at a party.

After that, he used the camera less and less and although he kept it, it mostly gathered dust. One reason for that was the cost of film and developing. He did take some pictures of Nikko when they were at Fort Drum, and a few with his army buddies, but after that, he acquired an inexpensive digital camera and the combination of that and his computer made it much easier to take pictures. From that time on, his main subjects were himself, his computers, his guns, his cars and motorcycles, and photos of the two women he was involved with and loved after his divorce. He also liked to take photos and video with his cell phones. I've posted quite a few of his photos on this blog already.

Eventually, when we were moving him to Florida, I asked him whether he wanted to keep the Minolta. He just shrugged. It was plain he wasn't going to use it any longer, and over the years the shoe mount for the flash had gotten cracked, so he thought it wasn't worth anything. I sold it with some camera equipment of mine and Peter W.'s and he was happy with the digital camera he had until it quit working. The last birthday gift we gave him was a new Fuji digital pocket camera he had his eye on, January 27, 2008, when he was here for dinner the day before his birthday. Sadly, in the two-and-a-half months he had it, he hardly used it.

The photos above are of Leif in Puerto Rico with his Minolta 7000 camera in 1992 when he was photographing the Tall Ships coming into San Juan during the celebration of the 500 years since Columbus discovered America, his camera, and one of the photos he took of a Ferrari in December 1986.

Thoughts in the Wee Hours of Memorial Day 2009

Last night we watched the poignant, touching, and sad Memorial Day Concert on the Mall in Washington DC. It was a beautiful tribute to our fallen and wounded military men and women, and we all shed a lot of tears. I cried for all those who lost their lives in the service of our country, all those whose lives were changed forever by terrible injuries, and all of their families who have to bear the losses.

And, I realized that Leif was one of the wounded and fallen, too. In a very real sense, he never recovered from the damage his service in the army did to him, losing his health, his marriage and his career. He lost a lot, too, though it wasn't a flesh wound. He was and is not alone. There are so many who are wounded in their souls. So many, too many suicides.

I was asking yet again, for perhaps the ten thousandth time, why? Why, why, why? And although I will never stop asking it, I know there will never be an answer. Even if there were one, it wouldn't be satisfactory. It wouldn't bring him back, wouldn't lay all the questions to rest.

How could he have been carrying on a lively email and text conversation with several of us, then go out with friends and have a good time, seeming to be making plans for future events, seeming normal, and then, in the wee hours of the morning when he was alone, use his new gun to take his own life?

I know there is no logic in it. I know that suicidal people come to believe that their family and friends will be "better off without them." They believe it is a solution. In some cases, like in terminal illnesses, it is, and perhaps in others that we can't fathom, the pain of living is too great to bear, but if they knew what heartache and loss they left behind, the years of misery and longing they create, would they do it? Would they go through with it? Do they think they are expendable, that their families and friends will just get over it and go on? They are wrong. The pain, the loss, the questions, permeate our lives. They don't go away. Missing them doesn't go away.

Later today I will go to the cemetery. My Leif is not there, just the last of his earthly remains. His dad tells me that, and I know it is true. I tell him I go there because it is symbolic, a way to honor him, even if he doesn't know it. I do it for me.

Leif was loved. He will always be loved. I hope he knew that.
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This photo was on one of those strips of four photos taken in a photo booth. I don't remember taking them. Luckily, I had written on the back of the photo that it was taken in Ansbach, Germany in the fall of 1979. Leif would have been four-and-a-half years old. I loved the expression on his face. He was so expressive.

Leif in Uniform - Bosnia - Early 2000 - Age 25

How does that precious little boy I posted last become this soldier? How do 25 years go past so fast? I think that you can see the resemblance between the two of them.

This is a photo I found on Leif's computer, one had hadn't seen before. I don't know who took it, but it was when he was in Bosnia. He looks lonesome to me. We have some video that Leif shot in Bosnia of the areas where he served, with him narrating. It's hard to hear his voice, his laugh, sounding like he is right here with us, and yet know he never will be again.

Leif liked serving in Bosnia because he had a mission. He was fond of saying that the infantry has no mission in peacetime, other than to train for war, and that means there is a lot of "make work" to keep the soldier busy (according to him). In Bosnia he appreciated the mission and the camaraderie, though he missed Nikko and was saddened by the condition of a country torn apart by war.

And yet - Leif was brave, strong and proud; resilient, stoic and honorable

After all I've written about Leif's unhappiness in his adult life, which hasn't really delved into some of the worst of it, the hard and cutting details, what remains is his bravery and resilience. He must have wondered why his life was so unlucky, which just once something didn't go right for him.

Yet he did experience love, even if he didn't get to keep it. He did have jobs, earn money and respect, though not up to his expectations, desires or capabilities. He did have things he loved; his cycles, his cars, his computers. He loved science fiction, computer games, movies. But at some point, those are not enough.

He drank too much to drown his pain, to help him sleep, to calm the demons.

But he was brave and resilient. How many of you could have endured what he endured, for a long as he did, keeping that cover of male bravado, that he was fine, he could take it? Could any of us keep getting up and going to work each day? He did.

How many times could we climb out of depression and try again?

How many of us could take it?

It was his resilience and bravado that gave me hope he would get through and find his place in life. It was the fact that he was in love again that gave me joy that maybe his life was turning around. It was his animated conversation the last two times we saw him that made me believe he was heading for better times. And perhaps he thought so, too. But what changed in a day?

I found a letter Leif wrote (email) that reveals some of what he went through alone at Fort Drum, and if you read my posts the last few days, you can see how this ties in to his bravado, his belief that he was beyond being hurt, beyond the demons . . . but how much could he take?

"You also say I have no idea what you are feeling. That I don't know what it feels like to be lost or hurt. BULLSHIT!!!!  I know exactly how it feels and I know how much it sucks. I was stuck in frigid New York. My Wife had just left me alone. My best friend just got out of the army and went home. I was completely alone. I had a #*%&^($ boss. Take  X and Y on their worst days; then make that everyday. Then give them to power to order you to do push-ups or any other sadistic cruel excercise till you puke and then keep going, and make it a federal crime for you to disobey them.  Yeah, I have no idea what  pain is. Imagine having a daily Asthma attack every morning while being forced to run 4 miles on shin splints so bad that you have tears streaming  down your face.  Then spend the rest of the day geting yelled at and told you are a piece of shit no matter how well you do the rest of your job because you couldn't keep up on the run this morning and the asthma is all in your head and you are just a lazy shitbag that doesn't want to run. Have medals you earned taken away from you because your (*^$) squad leader doesn't think you deserve them because despite being better at your job than anyone in the division you can't run very fast.  You are just lazy and the Asthma is all in your head, after all. Then you finally get a doctor to say you are f--- up and you still are a piece of shit because you are on a medical profile and now you are not out running with the rest of them, so you are still a piece of shit. So you come home every night and get drunk to kill the pain and get up the next day and do it again.  You use your night and weekend minutes to call back to Kansas to cry on the shoulder of an ex girlfreind who is the only kind voice you can reach because you are all alone in a foreign state and everyone here hates you and thinks you are worthless. You make detailed plans about how exactly you are going to kill yourself to the point of making sure that if you botch the job and the shotgun does not kill you instantly that you are far away from help and you will surely bleed to death before being found. You pick out a spot and map it with your GPS planning to leave the coordinates of where your body can be found miles in the wilderness where no one could stop you or save you in your suicide note. And finally the ONLY  reason you don't go though with it is because you know how much it would hurt your mother for her son to die and no matter how much pain you feel you can't do that to her. And so you push on day after day just looking for the light at the end of the tunnel.  There was a point where I decided it was over. I was not going to hurt anymore. I was not going to let anyone hurt me. I stopped running from my problems and faced them. After all, what have I got to lose? I was ready to die. What can they do to hurt me when I don't care about living? I let the hate roll off of me like it wasn't there. I stopped running from bills and responsibilities and I charged at them. I was going to win or they were going to destroy me.  But the fear was gone and most of the pain. I still struggled, but damn, I just survived being suicidal. I decided never to be that way again. And yes, it really is that simple. You just decide one day that you are tired of feeling that way, and when you do and you let go of whatever was hurting you, then you start over. I let go of Nikko, I let go of my own doubts. I just decided to do the best I can and let the chips fall, but I decided to do my BEST! Not to run and hide. You see, it's very empowering to survive suicide. You truly become fearless. I mean, what's left to fear when you have been at a point that you no longer feared death and wanted to die?"

He wrote this in March 2007, six years after the came back from Fort Drum and one year before he died. It wasn't as simple to just put it all behind him as he says, and I don't think he ever really let go of Nikko, either. He was a very depressed man when he came back from the army, for a long time, and he was depressed again after J. left him, and again when his relationship with Donna ended, but he survived. Think of the bravery and determination it took to go on, to keep trudging forward when the light at the end of the tunnel keeps going out.

But why, a year after he wrote this, did the darkness overwhelm him? Or did it? What really happened in the wee hours of the morning of April 9, 2008?
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The photo above was taken at our home on Leif's last birthday, January 2008, while he was talking on his beloved iPhone and playing with a laptop.

An Overwhelming Load - Leif - Sun City Center, Florida - May 13, 2007 - Age 32

Leif's adult life was strewn with disappointments and stresses, beginning with the financial problems he had in college, the health problems and misery he experienced because of them in the army, the loss of his marriage, and the resulting depression. There was a brief respite and happiness during the time following his college graduation in May 2003 when he was working and met J. and was in love. Then he plunged into the depths of depression again when she left him in March 2004. He continued to work in Manhattan, Kansas but was dying on the vine and wanted so badly to move away to Florida.

We moved him there in March 2005. He found a job with Amscot which he thought would lead to a good career with a good salary. He was doing well and had become an assistant manager until a jealous colleague made problems for him and his hopes ended. He went to work for Alltel, which gave him a bit of longevity because Alltel purchased Western Wireless where he had worked in Kansas. It was call center work again, which he was good at but it wasn't good for him because it tied him to a cubicle on the phone for eight hours a day. He gained weight from being sedentary. His shifts were often afternoon and evening shifts which meant it was late when he got off work and not a good time to get any exercise. Then he would stay up even later gaming.

Later, Alltel changed their pay policies so that his pay fell by 19% and he looked for another job. He found one in the same complex working at the Humana call center as a customer service representative for Medicare clients. He learned a lot about the American health system and it incensed him. He became truly angry at the lack of care for people without insurance and the denial of services to some that did, the cost shares and deductibles that made it hard for even those with health insurance to afford care. He was an advocate for a national health insurance system.

Meanwhile, life in Florida was not what he had dreamed of. In addition to the everyday need to work and take care of the mundane business of life which makes life even in a place like Florida pretty much like elsewhere, his asthma continued to cause him problems, and love continued to elude him.

Sometime in 2005, he had the minor accident with his prized new Suzuki and scraped it all up. (He replaced all parts to pristine new condition.)

December 23, 2005, Leif called me (I was still in Kansas) to tell me he had been in a car accident in Tampa. His black Dodge Stratus Coupe had been totaled. Luckily, he was not seriously injured, but the accident did damage his neck and he had to use a traction device. It caused him pain from then on.

In July 2006, his apartment in Tampa was broken into, the locked door to his bedroom kicked in, and most of his valuables were stolen, including cell phones, computer, and guns. He and Donna lived on the first floor and the thieves had come into the place through a sliding glass patio door in broad daylight in the afternoon. Supposedly no one saw them. The place was a wreck. Donna was scared out of her wits, with strangers out there who could get in at will having guns they could easily use on them.

The apartment complex didn't fix the broken lock on the patio door or provide any security, nor did they repair the broken bedroom door and left exposed nails sticking out of the door frame, for 90 days. At that point, Leif had enough and decided to take his insurance money and break his lease, thinking he could do so because the premises were literally not safely inhabitable. If I had been in his shoes, I would have been both frightened and extremely upset. The apartment management continued to hound him for the next year and half, claiming he had no deposit (we had proof he did), that he had caused damage he didn't cause (he had proof in the form of photos he took when he moved in of the damage they said he caused).

Leif moved to a different apartment complex to a nicer apartment but even there, he was not immune to thieves. On May 4, 2007, at 12:36 PM, Leif Garretson sent this text message to me, "When it rains, it pours. Motorcycle got stolen last night." That was the end of the speedy yellow Suzuki.

Then in July 2007, he broke up with Donna and had the more serious motorcycle accident with the Honda cycle, and the collarbone surgery.

He went back to school (continuing to work full time) in the fall of 2007 at USF in Tampa, which wasn't far from his apartment. He wanted to major in philosophy, and wanted to use the rest of his GI Bill benefits, partly for the education and partly to help out his finances. He enjoyed being on campus again but it was hard to juggle the classes with his work schedule, especially when the work schedule would change abruptly. By November, he was becoming very lonely and depressed, without purpose, as he wrote in the email to me that I posted yesterday.

At work, he had been interviewed for promotions several times. Each time he would get his hopes up that he would get a supervisory position, and each time he was not selected. He had a lot of good ideas and leadership ability and wanted a chance to put those skills to use, but each time his hopes were dashed and he remained tethered to the phone in a cubicle.

I had been trying to get Leif to look for a different kind of job but because he lacked focus and didn't know what he wanted to to with his life (other than things that were out of his reach like being a race car driver or pilot), and because he was depressed, he didn't have the drive or ambition to work on seeking other jobs. He did finally apply for a call center position with USAA, a company he would very much have liked to work for, and was interviewed. However, when the told him the salary range, he told them he'd have to have the top of the range because otherwise it would be a lower salary than he was getting at Humana. He was not offered the job, and that was another disappointment.

Then, in February 2008, after he had already paid the tuition and could no longer get it back, USF pulled his GI Bill stipend and he fell into a financial hole he couldn't fill. He never told us about the condition of his finances, just that he was "broke," but Leif was ALWAYS "broke" so we didn't know it was really far worse. We had helped him out several times before and would have done it again, even though he owed us a lot of money he couldn't pay back, but I don't think his pride would let him tell us or ask for money, since he had insisted all fall that he was doing fine. I had worried about the way he was spending money and he said he had sold some belongings and was using insurance money for other purchases. Little did we know what was really happening.

Then in March 2008, a month before he died, he tried to get personal loans to cover his debts, and couldn't get them. He tried to get his credit limit on his credit cards raised and couldn't. He had run out of financial options. The only ones he had left were to declare bankruptcy or to come to us or a friend for money, and I don't think he was willing to do either.

Leif was a proud man, a man who believed he should show no weakness, a man who always put forth an image of a guy with the cool car and the cool bike and the cool gadgets. I don't think he wanted to give up that image.

So he came to April 2008, when he was again in love, with D., but didn't know how he was going to pay his phone bills, his credit cards, his car and insurance payments, his rent, his internet service, or how he would pay for gas to go see her. He was going to work to support his debts and his car and his apartment, without even money for good food. He must have felt it was not worth going on.

Leif had pulled his life out of a tailspin before, not once, but several times, and he believed he was strong and could handle anything. On July 5, 2006, the day of the apartment robbery, he sent this text message to me:

July 5, 2006 at 11:29 p.m. Leif Garretson wrote, "I am OK. You know me. I am the rock. Also the good thing about my life of having once been so dark as to make me want to end it, in overcoming it means there is nothing I can't handle. After that everything else is just a new adventure or challenge. I am so much stronger now. This did not even raise my pulse. Just a speed bump. The car is still running great. I see it almost as a good thing, it will allow me to move out of here."

It was that email and that he told me that he hadn't killed himself at Fort Drum because he knew what it would do to me that gave me hope that he would pull out of his depression, because he had before, because he was "the rock." I hoped he was. I wanted to believe that, even as I worried that he was more vulnerable than he admitted.

That was the way he portrayed himself. Strong. Could handle anything. Maybe at that moment he could. When did he pass that point?

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This photo was taken May 13, 2007, Mothers Day, the last time I saw him on a Mother's Day, at our home.

A Dream About Leif - He Left Without Saying Goodbye

This morning I dreamed about Leif. I was with him and Nikko. They were friendly and caring about each other, but their marriage was over and Leif was going away somewhere, it seemed to join the army, but I thought I would never see him again, so that wasn't quite it. Everyone wanted to go see him off the at the airport and were organizing transportation. The house was full of relatives and friends, but Leif slipped out alone and left without saying goodbye. I ended up crying on Nikko's shoulder and saying, "Why couldn't it have worked out between you two?" She cried, too. In my dream, Leif was gone and we couldn't contact him.

No goodbyes. The mind finds ways to tell its stories even in our dreams. It made me very sad.

People think that by a year past the death of a loved one, those left behind should be moving on, getting past it, but it is common for real depression and loneliness to set in many months past the death. I have spoken with people who were so heartbroken and depressed a year after a family death that they had to seek therapy and medication. I'm not at that point and I doubt that I will be, but I do have days when I am deeply sad.

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This photo was the closest to how Leif looked in my dream. It is a self portrait he took on September 8, 2002, at the same time he took the one he posted as his profile picture on MySpace. He had regained some of that bright, hopeful look he had lost in the army, and was a senior at Kansas State University. He was 27 years old.