Sunday, May 27, 2012

Remembering My Soldier Son

Sgt. Jeremy R. Smith
US Army Reserves
Nov. 1981 to Feb. 2004
961st QM

It is Memorial Day weekend and I am thinking about my son.  It's been a long time since I wrote about him. 

Thoughts of him when he was born,  perfect and beautiful, capturing my heart.  It was love at first sight.  As do most babies, he had day and night mixed up and his exhausted  young mama was often in tears.  I was just 19.  I tried  to breastfeed him, but his  appetite was so voracious  he ended up injuring me, so I had to quit.  He was a good, happy baby who smiled and laughed a lot  and loved to be silly.  When he was learning how to walk, it took him a while to figure out that he didn't have to be holding onto something to walk, he always had a toy in his hand.

When Jeremy was eleven months old, his sister, Danielle, was born.  In his limited vocabulary, he couldn't say her name, but he would walk up to her crib and put his little hands through the bars of her crib, touch her, and called her "Sissy", a name that stuck with her for many years. 

Later, when  his baby sister, Jaime, was born, Jeremy couldn't have been more proud. 

My son had a dry, crude sense of humor.  He loved to ride his  bike and play video games.  Jeremy loved baseball with a passion but didn't have the patience to play very well.  We collected baseball cards together starting when he was a little boy in the 80's (I still have them).  He was smart and often bored at  school.  He disliked authority and didn't respect teachers who were idiots. I can't count how many times I got called in to his middle school and high school because he was in trouble for something or another.  In high school he pissed off the wrong crowd of kids and was afraid to go to school.  At home his teenage years were turbulent.  He tried drugs and we had to send him to rehab twice.  Eventually his dad and I got him into a GED program, which he finished.

Jeremy fought with his sisters and his parents, sometimes violently.  It was a hard time for all of us.  Looking back, I can see how screwed up all our lives were and that Jeremy was trying to be the adult, the father figure, because  the adults in the house weren't very good at being adults.  He did his best to protect his sisters and me.  If there was just one word I had to pick to describe my son it would be protective.

Jeremy was good with computers and was my "go-to-guy" for computer problems.  He loved to build his own.  He joined the Army Reserves a few months before 9/11 happened because he wanted to go to school.  That was the only way for him to get an education.  He went to ITT and excelled. 

When his dad and I divorced, shortly after Jeremy turned 18, our own relationship became pretty stormy, but eventually we were able to make amends and become close again.  I was surprised at how mature he had become. 

Jeremy got his orders to report for active duty just before his 22nd birthday.  Two days after his birthday, his stepdad and I drove him to Huntsville to report in.  He was going to Iraq.  After several months of training, his unit was ready to go in February.  When Jeremy came home on leave in December for Christmas, he handed me a folder filled with papers.  He gave me power of attorney to take care of his  business while he was gone.  He had a copy of his will and gave me instructions on what to do if he didn't come home alive.  I didn't want to talk about this, but he insisted.  I remember that moment all too well.

And then, the very last day I saw my son -- ever.  Five days before he died, he'd been home on one last leave of absence and we drove him back to Ft. Hood.  I hugged him and kissed him goodbye and told him I loved him and got in the truck, choking back my tears.  I didn't want my son to see my fear or my tears, I wanted to be brave for him.  Then I ran back to my son and kissed and hugged him again.  I knew...somehow I knew down deep inside I would not  see him again and I was absolutely helpless to do anything about it.  I let my tears fall on his cheek and let him see his mother's emotion. And then I cried most of the way home.

Jeremy died in a car accident just a few days before he was to go to Iraq.  He faced his future with courage and bravery and was ready to go and to serve his country.  In the end, my son who never expected much out of life, became my hero who met his challenges and conquered them and in the process became this extraordinary young man who loved his family and was fiercely loyal to me, his sisters and his stepfather.  I will always be so very, very proud of him and what he accomplished in such a short amount of time.

It's been eight years now and I often search crowds for his face, wish he'd call me on the phone or send me an email.  I wish he'd walk up my driveway and say "hello Mother" the way he always did, and tell me he'd been on some secret mission he couldn't tell me about.  I wonder what he would have done with his life when he got back from Iraq, if he'd be married and have children.  I miss the smile he always tried to hide and how he made me laugh when I felt down.  He would have loved that Jaime married Mark (who he knew) and I think he would have loved Misty, Dani's wife.  Jeremy would have adored and spoiled his nieces and nephews rotten.

In the end, I am grateful and blessed to have been Jeremy's mother. 

Love never dies. 

I miss you, my sweet son.

Peace,
Amy

4 comments:

Carol said...

This really touched me, Amy. A beautiful tribute to your son. Thank you for letting me know Jeremy a little bit.

Eight years... There is no loss that like of one's son or daughter. I'm so sorry.

dancingonabladeofgrass said...

As Carol says (I found you via her), a truly beautiful tribute.


xx

Amy Branham said...

Thank you.

And welcome! It's nice to meet you!

ชื่อที่แสดง said...

This really touched me, Amy. A beautiful tribute to your son. Thank you for letting me know Jeremy a little bit.

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