Did the head injuries and asthma push him over the edge?

I have always wondered whether Leif's head injuries played a part in his suicide. I don't know how many he had, but I do know at least two of them. The first was when he was a small boy in first grade. He was whacked in the head by a golf club swung by another boy. It knocked him flat.

The last time was his July 2007 motorcycle accident when he wasn't wearing a helmet and his head hit and scraped the pavement. That's the picture at left. He was lucky it wasn't a lot worse.

But that luck may have been only partial. We have been hearing a lot lately about the concussions that damage the brains of football players. Today I read an article in Scientific American that says that even mild concussions raise the risk of depression and suicide three times or more.

A Single Concussion May Triple the Long-Term Risk of Suicide

They don't know what the mechanism is, but the evidence is clear, that even mild concussions cause brain damage that has severe consequences.

Maybe in Leif's case, he might have been able to handle any combination of all the problems he faced if he hadn't had the head injuries, or the asthma, which bothered him greatly. Both head injuries and asthma are also associated with depression. Several studies have shown a link between asthma and increased suicide rates, too, particularly with severe asthma.

Too many risk factors for one man to escape.

Who knows, maybe without the injuries and the asthma, he would still be alive.

Leif and the Zip-a-Babe harness

Leif was a little escape artist, and boy, could he run fast! He never worried about getting lost. He would just take off as fast as his little legs would go, which was remarkably fast, ironic, since when he was in the infantry, although he could pass the army fitness tests, he couldn't run fast enough for his sergeant because of his asthma.

This is another one of those ordinary but serendipitous photos. My sister, Lannay, took it in a Chinese restaurant in Alexandria, Virginia in November 1976, when Leif was 22 months old. He is wearing the Zip-a-Babe harness. It was a lifesaver, literally. Although I got disapproving looks for using it, it allowed me to let Leif walk without him being in danger of escaping or running out in front of a car. People said leashes were for dogs, not kids, but those people never had a kid like Leif, I bet. he didn't mind it at all. I think he was actually rather relieved at being curbed a bit.

I don't remember the dinner we had at this restaurant, but it wasn't unusual for my boys to end up in retaurant kitchens being treated to things like cookies or bananas. They were such cute kids they attracted that kind of attention wherever we were. I remember Peter A. being whisked off the kitchens in restaurants in Spain, for instance.

Leif is holding a cookie in cellophane wrap. I think it's a Chinese almond cookie. He was a little charmer.

The Signs One Does Not See

I really debated about posting this photo. It's shocking and dramatic and disturbing, but in the end, I decided that's why I should post it. I was thinking once again about how we all look back and try to see the signs we might have missed, the ones that might have alerted us to the danger a loved one was in, that he was thinking of suicide. We could find small clues, very small ones, but they weren't things that would have alerted us at the time. I came across this article online, "How to Help Someone Who Is Thinking About Committing Suicide," on Wikihow, and it brought things into a different focus.

The article talks about hints someone contemplating suicide might give. I only remember one email that Leif sent to me in the same month he took this photo of himself, and it did alert me and make me very worried, but when I tried to engage him about his depression and loss of purpose, he insisted he was all right. I think this is a common reaction of men, and this article, helpful as it is, doesn't give you anything to go on if the person denies depression, denies suicidal thinking, and you have no other direct evidence. You certainly don't want to take precipitative steps if someone ISN'T contemplating suicide.

Had I seen the photos Leif took of himself using the PhotoBook program on his computer at the time he took them, I would have been even more worried and confronted him about then, but he would most assuredly have insisted that he was just playing with the program and his guns and it was all just a fun experiment . . . though it doesn't look like that to me. All of the photos look like an angry, depressed, sick man either giving the "camera" the finger or pointing a gun at it, or making nasty grimaces. There are no smiles, nothing "fun," nothing he would ever want to show the world. There is a series of photos using the various effects that PhotoBooth offers, sepia, negative (like this one), and others, but the poses are all in the same vein.

The thing that makes it all the more disturbing was that they were taken in the wee hours of the morning of Thanksgiving, November 22, 2007, less than five months before he died, and he had Thanksgiving dinner with us that night, seeming a little detached and depressed but mostly himself, conversational, pretty normal.

He started out taking some pictures at about 1:38 that morning. those were serious, thoughtful and maybe slightly sad. Then there was a break of about 4 hours and he took the rest between 5:48 and 6:08 a.m., and those were the ones I'm writing about. I think he may have used some of them to help model the face of one of his Mass Effect characters to look like him (I've posted photos of that character), but most of what he was doing was what appears to me to be a sort of documentation of how he was feeling, and that feeling was terrible, angry, hurt, sad, lonely, depressed.

None of the photos had him pointing the gun at himself. He sighted it toward the camera several times, held it sideways in front of his face, but not at himself. There were two different pistols in the photos, and neither was the one he used to kill himself. That one he had purchased only the day before he shot himself.

It's hard to imagine that only 12 hours after taking these photos, during which he probably spent a good part of the day sleeping, he drove to our house and acted normal for Thanksgiving dinner, and probably felt he had very little to be thankful for.

How does one help someone who is thinking about suicide if you can't tell, or they won't admit it, or insists they are handling things all right? And even if you try, will it help? It might. It's worth trying. There are many stories of people who have been saved or stopped from suicide and gone on to live a happier life and been grateful for the chance. We tried with Leif but we weren't able to help him. We cannot get inside the mind of someone in this condition. And we can only help as much as they will allow.

Leif did not call for help, didn't call a suicide hotline, didn't reach out, didn't tell his friends or his family. I still wonder how long the decision had been coming, whether he planned it or decided on the spur of the moment. Surely he had enough depression and disappointments and problems in his life to bring him to that.

However, now I am also beginning to wonder if there was yet another influence that might have tipped the scales. I knew that I'd seen things about the asthma medication Singulair causing depression and suicide. I even remember asking him about that in the fall of 2007. He said that was interesting because he had used Singulair at one time but wasn't on it then and hadn't been in quite awhile. I didn't think to examine further, but due to some other research I was doing online, it occurred to me to find out whether other asthma medications possibly caused depression, and I found that they do. It is a well-known side effect of the steroid inhalers and other medications. Leif's asthma was getting worse and he was using them more often. We will never know, but now I wonder whether that might have been the thing that put him over the edge.

If you have someone in your family who is depressed or despondent, consider their medications as possibly contributing to that state of mind.

On April 10th, it will be three years since we found Leif's body, and we are no closer to knowing why than before, but I think I am more able to take a balanced view. I'm more able to smile at the photos of him that I treasure. I will never smile at this one, but it's part of the truth of who he was and how he felt before he died, and maybe someone seeing this might see signs in someone they love that look like this and find it possible to talk with them and help them. I did not see these photos until months after Leif died.

Interesting Study Says Loneliness Can Be Transmitted

This is an interesting article in the Washington Post about a study of loneliness by Christakis and Cacioppo that purports to show that loneliness can be spread from person to person. They theorize that a lonely person interacts with others in negative ways due to their emotions and that affects those they interact with. Lonely people tend to become isolated and loneliness increases. The particularly mention loss of a spouse or a divorce as being a trigger for loneliness and say that loneliness has far-reaching consequences for mental and physical health, bringing with it depression, sleep problems and ill health.

I certainly saw the consequences of loneliness in Leif, and he did become increasingly isolated, except for a very small group of acquaintances. He perked up and seemed a lot happier in a big family grouping, but rarely had that opportunity. He tried hard to find someone to love but did little to cultivate any other kinds of new friendships.

His physical health suffered; his asthma was worse; he gained weight, had insomnia. Feeling worn out and having trouble breathing would feel awful and make it hard to function or be happy and sociable.

It's sad that the breakdown of relationships, even those that are destructive and unhealthy, can cut someone off from the kind of intimate human contact that can prevent loneliness and all that goes with it.

This reminds me of the studies we learned about in psychology of infants who fail to thrive, eat and grow properly because of a lack of touch and human stimulation. I think something similar happens in adults who lack loving touch and human contact and warmth. Something just shrivels up and dies in them.

Flaming Out Young

This morning, the conductor of the Women's Chorus I sing with shook her head when we opened up a piece of music and said, ""Mr. Chopin. So many of the great composers died young. They lived hard and burned out, like Mozart. I'm surprised Mozart made it into his thirties. They were brilliant but maybe that worked aganst them."

Someone in the chorus chimed in, "That's still true today," and people started mentioning names like Elvis Presley and Michael Jackson, and others.

I was thinking about Leif. Those people were immensely talented and they achieved great success, so we know about them. But how many more of our brilliant young people who live hard, trying to experience something, trying to figure out how to use their talents, and end up dying young? I've heard too many stories of young men in their early thirties, like Leif, who took their own lives or died of the consequences of their dangerous lifestyles.

Mozart was 35 when he died of a serious fever with rashes and swelling, which at least one medical sleuth says was probably rheumatic fever. Chopin was 39 and died of tuberculosis. Without modern medical care, it may not have been so much their lifestyles as the inability to treat contagious diseases that took their lives. We have to wonder what glorious music they might have continued to give us had they lived a normal lifespan.

We worried about Leif from the time he was about 21 and bought his first motorcycle, driving it like a demon. He admitted to me that he reached speeds over 100 miles an hour. We worried about the way he drove his car, too. I was always glad to know, each and every day, that he was all right. When we all got cell phones about five years ago (Leif had one since 1993, long before most people got them, and paid for it with his salary), I always kept mine with me, including at night on my nightstand, in case something happened to him. More than once, it did. We feared he would kill himself or injure himself terribly in a crash. It was a daily fear.

He had two minor motorcycle accidents and two minor car accidents, a car accident that totaled his Dodge Stratus and hurt his neck, and then the motorcycle that shattered his collarbone and required surgery. Ironically, that one was not because he was speeding. He was on a street in Tampa, near his apartment, going back to work after lunch and a white Cadillac swerved in front of him. To avoid ramming into the back of it, he had to lay the bike down and he hit the pavement instead. How well I remember the phone calls. How glad I was he was not severely injured and disabled or killed.

Leif did not die directly of disease, like Mozart and Chopin, but he suffered from asthma and depression (and possibly bipolar disorder and PTSD). Without those, he might have been able to sustain his life and deal with all the disasters, disappointments and loneliness. With them and a gun, he succumbed.

He was so bright and talented, had so much he could have given the world, if he had ever found out where and how. How sad that none of what he had to offer remains.
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This glowing and joyful photo of Leif was taken the night before his brother's graduation from the U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, Colorado on May 29, 1991. It was a great evening. He was ecstatic. He was 16 years old. He lived to be only 33.

Leif Climbing - Stuttgart - March 1978 - Age 3

I wonder how many things Leif climbed in his childhood; trees, fences, logs, playground equipment, hills, fountains, rocks, and so much more. If it could be climbed, he'd climb it, and seemingly knew no fear of falling. He took a lot of joy in physical activities and challenges as a child, which must have made it all the harder for him to accept the limitations his asthma put on him as an adult.

This photo was taken in March 1978 whe he was three years old. We went to visit our friends the Streckers in Stuttgart, and they had put this climbing apparatus into their daughter's bedroom. Leif was captivated. He's all the way at the top with his head against the ceiling. This was another photo which was badly damaged by improper processing and had yellow streaks through it. I'm glad I could restore it somewhat.

That was the same trip when Peter Anthony broke a finger playing with an exercise wheel they had. He was in a lot of pain until he got it braced.

It was a good weekend with our friends, a German family Peter became acquainted with through trial work. Our children were relatively the same ages. Another thing we did that weekend was going to see the darling baby tigers at the Stuttgart zoo.

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.

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.

Leif's 29th Birthday - Manhattan, Kansas - January 28, 2004 - Age 29

It was bitter cold on Leif's 29th birthday. He hated that cold! It wasn't just uncomfortable and miserable, but for him it was a matter of life and breath. With the cold weather asthma he had developed, cold weather made it hard to breathe. The evening of his 29th birthday was one of those days. It was so cold we didn't go out anywhere. He came over all bundled up, with nothing but his eyes showing. He had on a big heavy jacket, and under that, another jacket, and under that a sweater. He had a stocking cap on and it was pulled down to meet the high collar of his jacket, so that only his eyes were showing. It reminded me of how I dressed when we lived at Fort Sheridan on the north side of Chicago and I had to go to work at the Civilian Personnel Office. I, too, used to have nothing but my eyes showing and they nicknamed me "Yukon Jerri." At that time, Leif made fun of me because I was a cold weather and snow wimp, but he had joined me before this birthday came around.

We got him something warm to drink (warm translating as a Scotch on the rocks, I think) and after he got warmed up he finally took off his hat, jacket and gloves and opened his birthday presents. Notice the change in size from the puffed up double jackets to the just the sweater.

I know he got this dagger, two new warm hats, a book of soldier humor, and also an insulated coffee mug for his car. By this time, he was working for Alltel and it was a long drive (long for Manhattan, Kansas, about 6 miles) out to their building past the Manhattan airport. He wanted to have a warm drink with him. I know there were other presents, but I can only remember those. He put both hats on at once, and if you look hard, you can see the tag on the top of the light blue one.

We had a nice evening together before he had to go back out in the cold and walk the block back to the 710 N. 9th Street house. Kansas is in the deep freeze for his birthday this year, too. He wouldn't miss that!

Leif was looking good in January 2004, and he was happy. He was in love. It was good to see him happy like that, but unfortunately, it was not to last. I don't remember why she wasn't with us that night. She may have been in the Philippines for her job at that time.

I treasure the memories of the good times. I'm glad he had some in his life.

Happy Birthday, Leif!

Leif at Work a Year Ago - Age 32

Last December 20, 2007, Leif took this photo of himself at work. I found it on his computer after his death, yet another photo he had not shared with us. He rarely emailed photos to us. He was a telephone customer service agent for Medicare Part D and spent his workdays logged in on a computer and phone system accepting calls. Leif was good at his job and prided himself on his ability to explain things to people thoroughly and compassionately, but he came to abhor the US health care system because of its unfairness, with some people unable to get care without insurance and enormous amounts of money. Leif had health insurance because he was a military retiree and had VA benefits as well as health insurance from his job, and he was adamant about the need for universal health insurance. He felt terrible about having to explain to those who did have health insurance why something that was critical to their care wasn't covered.

I remember when Leif first came home from the army and wasn't yet permanently medically retired so the possibility of him losing his military benefits and health insurance was real. Even though he had asthma, he had the youthful expectation of good health and couldn't see why he should be concerned about finding a job with health insurance and benefits. Later, as his health deteriorated, his medications grew more expensive, and when he had to have the collarbone operation in July 2007, it became very important that he had health insurance. The bills for his operation alone totalled over $50,000, though they were greatly reduced by the limits the insurance had negotiated. Even so, he had out of pocket expenses that ruined his budget.

It's hard to believe Leif took this photo just under a year ago, and now he's gone. We never saw his workplace. After he died, we picked up the few belongings he had there in a box brought to our car by his team leader. There weren't many, but the box was heavy, mostly with the big jug of pennies that he had used to build the copper penny space ship in his cubicle. I posted a photo of that before. There was also the headset he's using in this photo, certificates of training, a one-year service award and commendation certificates, pens, pencils, and that's about all. You can see one of the commendation award certificates in the photo.

It would have been healthier for Leif to be in a job where he interacted directly with people. He was too isolated, both at work and at home. It might not have made a difference, but I think he would have been happier if he had had a job dealing with people and ideas and more activities with friends outside of work.

Leif - An Award from Dad & Retirement from the Army - 2002 & 2004

Leif seldom wrote anything long, letters or email, unless it was something about which he felt a sudden and gripping passion. One evening in February 2001, when he was alone and depressed at Fort Drum, he called home and he and his dad had a misunderstanding. He broke down, the only time I ever heard him do that as an adult, hung up the phone and wrote a passionate statement about his military service. In that email, we learned for the first time about his awards, the difficulty he had experienced, and the humiliation he experienced not only from the treatment he got from some of his superiors, but from experiencing the breakdown of his health and body.

Although Leif ultimately was boarded out of the army due to medical reasons, his asthma, which became so severe that he could not keep up on marches when carrying his incredibly heavy load, and for which he was punished instead of being treated, he did not want to leave his chosen military career and felt his body had betrayed him.

The ultimate humiliation came when the army tried, as they have tried with so many vets (just tonight we heard on the news that all these years later they are finally admitting that those who had "Gulf War Syndrome" from the first Gulf War weren't making it up; they are really sick!) to insist that he didn't contract the asthma as the result of his military service, but must have had it before he entered. Luckily for him, he had his entire life's health record from military facilities from the day he was born, with no trace of asthma in any of it until after he was sent to Fort Drum. He had to appeal their decision to board him out without benefits, and appear before a board at Fort Lewis, Washington.

The final result was that the board agreed that his asthma was service-related, caused a 30% disability (which also meant that the law enforcement careers he would have liked to go into instead of the army were now barred to him as well), and permanently retired him from the army in August 2004 after being on a temporary retirement list since May of 2001.

Leif was denied promotions he deserved and denied medals he earned because of his asthma and disability, regardless of the outstanding job he did. He came home demoralized, depressed and lonely.

In July 2002, when his brother, Peter Anthony, and his family were visiting us in Manhattan, Kansas at the old stone house, Peter W. made an award for Leif, hoping to show that he honored Leif's service to his country. He put a brass plaque on a wooden base, used a branch of wood from one of our trees, decorated it with Leif's insignia and medals, and topped it with the statue of a infantryman. He presented it to Leif in front of the family, saying that if the Army didn't properly honor him, his dad would.

Leif was touched, and also bemused. This surely was one of the most unusual and personal awards a soldier ever got. The photo above is of that occasion.

At Leif's Memorial Service, the base of this award, with the brass plaque and the infantryman that had been on the top, were displayed, and some of the insignia were placed on the wooden urn that held Leif's ashes.

Here are Leif's own words:

I am an infantryman. There is a reason we get to wear the blue cord. We do what others would not, what others could not. I have done things that you could not imagine. Carried more, fought harder, endured more pain, pressed on for the mission. You have no idea what I have done. You have no idea what I have endured, what I have carried, how far I have carried it, or how little thanks I have gotten for my efforts. I would challenge you to do the same. I doubt you could.

I have served my country to the best of my ability and then some. I DID serve with honor and distinction. You have no idea what I have done or how hard it was to do it. I may have joined the wrong Service or the wrong MOS but I did my best to fulfill that job. I have suffered more pain, more humiliation, because of that choice, than you can imagine. I am now asthmatic because I would not give up. I am being thown out because my body would not abide with my will.

But I was proud to serve my country, because even if the institution was flawed at least I was one of those that volunteered to be part of it. I have served with honor and distinction. I was the top gunner at Dragon School straight out of Basic, for which I received a Certificate of Achievement. I was the best of the Guard in Bosnia on several occasions, for which I received several more COA's. I was among the best in the Catamout truck challenge, receiving another COA from my LTC.

I was the best gunner in our battalion and had the best gun team in the battalion, and probably the division, for which I also received a COA. I completed many road marches from 12 to 25 miles with full gear. I completed the 7 month rotation to Bosnia with a mission every day that could have meant life or death. These are just a few of the things that I have done in my service.

His Certificate of Retirement reads:

Certificate of Retirement
From the Armed Forces of the United States of America
To all who shall see these presents, greeting:
This is to certify that
Specialist Leif A. Garretson
having served faithfully and honorably,
was retired from the
United States Army
on the Fifth Day of August 2004

Here I will end my account of Leif's military service, which is fragmented and sketchy. We will never know all he could have told us about it, and there are some things he did tell us that I am not recounting online because they are about other individuals whose permission I do not have, or who would not be portrayed in a flattering light.

Although Leif's military service harmed him in body and soul, and I think it quite likely that he suffered from post traumatic stress syndrome, it also formed a major part of his identity, which is one reason his inability to continue because of his health was such a terrible blow to him.

The rest of his life, Leif would identify with his fellow soldiers.

Leif - Bosnia - Fall 1999 - Spring 2000 - Age 25

If you compare this photo of Leif with one taken just a year or two earlier when he joined the army, I think you can clearly see the decline in his both his mental and physical health. It's a dramatic and shocking change to me. He has gained weight, lost his hair, and no longer has that vital, energetic look he had before. I don't know how much of it was caused by the asthma, how much by being separated from Nikko and knowing they had marital problems exacerbated by the long months apart, or other factors of his army service such as the humiliating treatment he had sometimes endured.

We visited Leif and Nikko just a couple of months before he went to Bosnia, in July 1999. He had gained some weight after basic training and seemed subdued at times, but wasn't the depressed and unhappy man he was by the summer of 2000. We didn't see these photos until after he died, and we didn't see Leif until he and Nikko came back to Kansas in the summer of 2000, just before Nikko left him. I wonder if the changes in him were as much of a shock to her as they were to me, when he returned to her at Fort Drum that spring.

Leif spent Christmas 1999 and his 25th birthday on January 28, 2000 in Bosnia. We never heard how he celebrated either one, or if he did.

In the photo, he is in the gun turret of the patrol vehicle, but relaxing with a soft drink. You can see a bit of the area behind him, with the damage he told of clearly visible. Note he is wearing a flack jacket. The position Leif had on patrol was totally exposed. Luckily, he was never fired upon, but if he had been, he would have been a big target.

The certificate is for the NATO medal. It reads (in both English and French):

North Atlantic Treaty Organization
This is to certify that
PFC Leif Garretson
Charlie Company, 2nd Battalion, 87th Infantry
Has been awarded the NATO Medal for Service with NATO on Operations in relation to the Former Yugoslavia During the Period 20 September 1999 to 28 March 2000.

The actual medal looks like the bronze medallions at the top of the page and the ribbon, which he would have worn on his uniform was the navy blue bar with silver stripes that is in the middle. This was yet another thing Leif didn't tell us about, and I found the medal in the box it came in among his things.

Leif - Bosnia - Fall 1999 - Spring 2000 - Age 25

Leif was deployed for duty in Bosnia Herzegovina from Fall 1999 - Spring 2000. He was on sentry duty and on patrol in the machine gun turret of a vehicle, and was stationed in (I believe) three different camps during the period he was there.

Leif had a receding hairline which kept getting worse, and while he was in Bosnia, he decided to just shave his head. He never went back to having hair and said that when it started to grow, it felt "dirty" to him once he was used to the clean-shaven head.

Seeing Bosnia and what hatred for another religion or ethnic group had caused there had a profound effect on Leif. As a student of history, he already had opinions about religion causing so many problems and wars in the world, but when he saw the damage first hand, it solidified his belief that religion was too often a force of terrible evils.

Leif said there was no home or building that wasn't damaged by the war there, that many were in shambles, completely destroyed, and those that were standing and in use were marked by bullet holes and other damage. He said that Bosnia was a beautiful country, and would have been a delightful place to visit had it not been for the circumstances of the war and the peacekeeping effort.

The American troops were not supposed to have anything to do with the local populace, which he also thought was a shame, but he understood the reason for it. He recounted a story in which some of his unit managed to go to a local place for a pizza, and really enjoyed it, but said they could have gotten into a lot of trouble.

He also told a story about a time when he was on patrol when they nearly shot at other Americans who were in a restricted area and hadn't let the patrols know they were there.

Leif made some videos of the camps there, explaining where things were, a kind of tour, but so far, I don't have anything to play them with, because of the format.

Leif had been very unhappy at Fort Drum, partly because he felt that soldiers in his unit were not being treated well (and sometimes very cruelly and humiliatingly) by a particular sergeant, partly because he felt they were wasting a lot of time, were kept past retreat (time to go home) without reason (just waiting in the day room for dismissal), and because he had developed cold weather asthma the previous winter at Fort Drum after having been to Uzbekistan and "eating and breathing sand for two weeks." However, he found his time in Bosnia to be far more interesting and rewarding because, as he put it, "we finally had a mission."

Leif contended that it is hard to be an infantry soldier in peacetime because there is no real mission. Yes, they have to train and be prepared to fight, but that training doesn't go on eight hours a day, five or more days a week, so there are "make work" projects and a lot of wasted time. Leif hated boredom and hated having his time wasted.

But in Bosnia, he could see a clear reason for their mission. Leif said that he felt that if the US and NATO troops left, the war would resume and people would start killing each other again. Despite the fact that he knew the USA could not police the world, he did feel a sense of pride and accomplishment at his service in Bosnia, and a sense of comradeship in arms that was much more pronounced that he had felt in the USA.

The photo of Leif above was taken while he was on patrol in Bosnia but I don't know the date. I found it in an album he had. He had never shown those photos to us.

The three certificates are from his time in Bosnia.

Certificate of Appreciation
This Certificate is Presented to
SPC Leif A. Garretson
C Col, 2nd Battalion, 87th Infantry Regiment
For dedication to duty, and service to the
2nd Brigade Task Force, while assigned
as part of SFOR-6 in Bosnia Herzegovina.

Comanche Base
Operation Joint Forge
Certificate of Achievement
Presented to SPC Leif A. Garretson
3rd Platton, C Co., 2/87 Infantry Regiment
For exemplary performance of duty while assigned as a Sentry at Comanche Base, Bosnia-Herzegovina during Operation Joint Forge from 26 December 1999 to 26 January 2000. Your dedication and willingness to put forth the extra effort in all that you do is indicative of your professionalism and desire to be the best. This achievement is in keeping with the highest traditions of military service. Fly to Glory!

The third certificate is in the language used in Bosnia. It came with a small badge or lapel pin that looks like the one on the certificate, oval, red, with crossed rifles. It reads, as nearly as I can translate it:

SPC Garretson
has earned
The Military Sharpshooter Medallion
In Bronse
Bosnia, 3 December 1999

I wish I knew how that kind of competition took place. Leif's normal weapon was the machine gun, but this was evidently for a rifle competition or qualification.

I found these certificates and the Bosnian sharpshooter medallion in Leif's things.

Leif was promoted from Private First Class to Specialist sometime between when we saw him in July 1999 and December 1999 when he got the sharpshooter award, but I don't recall that he told us about it.

We had limited contact with Leif while he was in Bosnia, just a few emails. I'm going to try to see whether they are still on my computer and whether there are any interesting details in them. It would be unusual, since Leif didn't often write much.

Leif - The Purple Suit & The Sculptor - 1992

In high school, Leif became a snappy dresser with his own sense of distinctive style. When he wasn't wearing the the in-style ragged jeans and combat boots, he liked unusual styles, particularly two suites, one a sort of silver/gray the other purple, and he looked terrific in them.

This photo was taken in our back yard in Puerto Rico. Note the Oakley sunglasses, one of several pairs he owned over the years. I found one in his belongings after he died.

That yard was surrounded by a ring of 29 coconut palms and was very hard to mow. Leif got that job, and he didn't like it. However, I wish I had a photo of him out there, bare to the waist, long hair streaming, with his machete stuck into a coconut he had just lopped the end off of, holding it in the air with the machete and drinking the juice by pouring it down his throat. He looked like a very well-built Tarzan.

I chose this photo because of an analogy Peter made today. He said it's as though we had what we thought was a perfect piece of marble and spent 33 years sculpting it, and then found it had a fatal flaw that would cause it to disintegrate.

I thought a lot about that today, but the analogy isn't quite right. It's more as though we had about 20 years to sculpt the beautiful statue, and then had to put it out into the public garden, where vandals worked for years to destroy it and finally managed to do so.

I say that because Leif suffered greatly. He was betrayed by people he loved. He was treated with terrible unfairness and cruelty in the army because of his asthma. He suffered heartbreaking loneliness and depression.

Although the rest of Shakepeare's speech doesn't fit, the line "he loved not wisely but too well" certainly fits Leif. He had great love to give, but he chose unwisely and those he loved broke his heart.

Leif had flaws. They contributed to his loneliness and depression, but as I learn about depression, I see that many of those flaws were symptoms of it.

Yet in so many ways, he WAS the beautiful statue, the beautiful mind. He was brilliant, though he never found a focus and sense of purpose for that mind. He was handsome. He was kind. He was funny. He had a social conscience. He cared deeply about his country.

When this photo was taken, he could have been a model, posed for the cover of romance novels, but although he dressed the part, he never had the artifice to be the ladies' man . . . and indeed, what he really wanted most of all in life was a loyal, loving soulmate, the protector of his heart.

How I wish he had found her!

Leif - Memorial Day Visit to the Cemetery

I have always felt sad on Memorial Day, for all those who died for our country, and all their families, and I feel the same each time I hear and see the "Honor Roll" for those who have died in Afghanistan and Iraq on television. Leif felt very strongly about the deaths of his fellow soldiers in Iraq. He felt out country valued the lives of its soldiers far less than the lives of those who died on 9/11, and he blamed President Bush for their deaths.

I have never visited a national cemetery on Memorial Day before. We went today (it will show up as yesterday on the blog post date because it's after midnight) to honor Leif, and because they set his stone marker on Friday and we wanted to see it. It wasn't so much about visiting Leif, because the Leif we love isn't there. It's hard to know that all he was, that towering figure in so many ways, is now just our memories and photos, and all that's in that niche is ashes.

When we were there for the inurnment service, there was hardly anyone else there. It was a place of quiet peace. Today, there were many families visiting the graves of loved ones, some placing flowers, one man down on his hands and knees carefully scraping dust and dirt out of the incised letters of the marker stone. There were small American flags by each in-ground burial (all burials at Bay Pines National Cemetery are cremations), and that made it so much more obvious how many are buried here. The stones are flat to the ground, so it looks more like beautiful grass fields unless you walk over them and see the stones as you look down.

The campanile was playing the songs of each military service as we got there. That started the tears flowing. It always does, whether I'm at a sad occasion or not, just as the National Anthem makes me cry. I'm a hopelessly emotional person, I guess.

Peter had been worried about how I would handle seeing Leif's niche with the stone in place, and yes, I cried, but it wasn't as bad as either of us feared. I think it was because I had tried hard to prepare myself, and because I realized that it isn't really Leif that is there.

I decided to put a series of photos on this post beginning with one of him in Uzbekistan. He is in the center with two UN soldiers from other countries on either side of him. The other photos are his marker, the columbarium that his niche is in (his is exactly in the middle on the second row from the top), one of the fields of flags, and the column monument at the entrance to the cemetery.

If you haven't been to a national cemetery and you have the chance to go, please do. You will find it very moving, and all those who paid for our liberty with their lives deserve our thanks. Arlington National Cemetery is particularly worth a visit.

Leif did not die in the service of his country, at least not directly, though I think that service played a part in his death. He was a disabled veteran who began having asthma attacks in cold weather after the military exercises he was a part of in Uzbekistan in the fall of 1998. Although I have no way of proving it, I believe the experienced some substance or "trigger" there which caused his asthma. He had never had it before.

It was asthma that ruined his military career and put a stop to his hopes of a career in law enforcement, and was part of a chain of disappointments that added to his depression.

But no matter what, Leif served his country proudly and took very seriously his oath to defend the Constitution of the United States. And we are proud of him for his service.

Leif in the Army in 1998 - Bosnia - Machine Gun

Leif was in the US Army infantry from January 1998 until May 2001. He was a machine gunner and armorer. Leif was exceptionally accurate with this huge gun and received awards for that, loved firing it, and missed it when he left the service. It is very heavy, and with it and his pack, he was carrying his own bodyweight. That's how strong he was. But asthma got him. He developed it, most likely from some triggering substance or event, after he enlisted, and it caused him a great deal of misery.