Father's Day Altered by War. For Some, Forever.
By PATRICK HEALY
he marine and his son wore matching Dallas Cowboys caps and fished for alligators
rumored to lurk in the pond behind their home. They went bowling,
shaved together in the bathroom mirror and slithered across
the living room floor, imagining they were infiltrating enemy territory.
Today, 6-year-old Tyler Jordan and his parents, Phillip and Amanda,
would have gone out for a Father's Day breakfast, then fishing,
then maybe to see a movie. Instead, Tyler and his mother,
who live Enfield, Conn., will collect a few keepsakes to
begin a new Father's Day ritual: visiting Dad at the cemetery.
For some military families, today's holiday is a time to celebrate
a father who has finally come home. But for those visiting graves today
, this Father's Day is a stinging reminder of their loss.
"Tyler really looked up to his dad," said Mrs. Jordan,
whose husband was killed in Iraq on March 23 when his Marine
unit was ambushed near Nasiriya. "It'll be
a devastating day for him. It'll be the hardest thing yet."
Even families that have been reunited feel a tinge
of regret for lost time as they readjust to life together.
In a small home in Campbell, N.Y., Lance Cpl. Craig Ayers makes
breakfasts for his two children, watches "Blue's Clues"
and catches up on lost time. His son learned to walk and celebrated
his first birthday while Corporal Ayers was in Iraq, repairing tanks
for the Marine Corps. His 2-year-old daughter grew a little taller
and a little sassier, Corporal Ayers said.
His Marine unit returned to New York a week ago after five months
in the Middle East, and Corporal Ayers said he was gradually
relearning how to tolerate dirty diapers and be patient with toddlers.
His children are readjusting, too. At first, the 1-year-old, Gavin,
did not recognize Corporal Ayers and shied away. Two-year-old Alyvia
still does not let her father leave her sight, Corporal Ayers said.
Fathers like Lance Cpl. Joshua Williams are meeting their children
for the first time. His son, David, was born March 29,
two months after Corporal Williams left his home in
Rochester, N.Y., for the Middle East.
"He's the best baby in the world," he said. "He's incredible.
It kills me inside that I couldn't be here to see him born and spend
those first couple months with him."
Corporal Williams said his wife had elaborate plans for today,
but he wants to spend the day taking his son for a walk,
or going to the park.
"Time is the most important thing I have," he said.
"To me, it's just about being there with your child."
When military families are separated, they share milestones
through the mail. Gunnery Sgt. Jim DuPont has been in Iraq since March,
so his wife and three daughters sent a Father's Day package.
Military fathers said they wrapped photographs of their children in
plastic bags and stuffed them into ammunition containers and pasted
them up inside tanks. They listened to gurgly first words recorded on
minicassettes and talked to their children on satellite phones.
In a letter to his wife, Brandy, Sgt. Eugene Williams, of Highland, N.Y.,
suggested names for the couple's second daughter,
who was born June 7. He preferred Monica.
Sergeant Williams was already planning family vacations
and imagining his girls as star basketball players when he was
killed by a car bomb explosion on March 29 at an Army
checkpoint outside Najaf.
Almost immediately after his death, Mrs. Williams began the
struggle to preserve his memory. She and her daughter, Mya, 3,
look at photographs of birthday parties and the family's old duplex
at Fort Stewart, Ga. and reminisce about trips to Disney World,
and the way Sergeant Williams took Mya to the park and
pushed her along on her bicycle.
"If you met him one time, you'd never forget him," said Mrs. Williams,
who now lives in Hawaii. "That's the hardest part for me right now.
When she's 10, I don't know if she's going to have those memories."
Father's Day is painful, but it is a chance to solidify memories, Mrs. Williams said.
She and Mya will write a card for Sergeant Williams and make
their weekly visit to his grave, where Mya will place a gift —
anything from a daisy to a piece of candy to a
Chicken McNugget from McDonald's.
Mrs. Williams said she would silently tell her husband, "Don't let her forget you."
For the family of Staff Sgt. Terry Hemingway, Father's Day breakfasts
of burned toast and soggy cereal are distant memories. Sergeant Hemingway
loved everything about Father's Day, from the disastrous breakfasts
his three children made to the attention his family lavished on him and
family dinners, said his wife, Darlene.
Sergeant Hemingway, who was killed in a car bomb explosion in
Baghdad on April 10, observed holidays with great devotion.
He saw it as part of his duty as a husband and father to always
be ready with a gift and card for Christmas, Mother's Day, Valentine's Day
and anniversaries, his wife said.
More than anything else, Sergeant Hemingway devoted himself to being
a good father, his wife said. He grew up in Trenton, and wanted six children,
but three was enough for Mrs. Hemingway.
The Hemingways are moving from Fort Benning, Ga., to New Jersey
to be close to their extended family. Mrs. Hemingway said she worried
about raising her family without her husband's salary, and she often
has to ward off her grief to appear strong for her children.
Sergeant Hemingway was at his best with his children, she said.
She does not know where they can find another role model like their father.
"It's just a void."
For Mrs. Jordan, the role of the sole parent is not unfamiliar.
Although Tyler and his father were very close, Sergeant Jordan
worked long weeks and was often called away for duty. Now, she will
always be the one who takes Tyler to T-ball practice and plays
video games with him.
She is also the one who reminds Tyler that they cannot go to
heaven to see his father, and she is the one who comforts
him when he cries.
They have even developed a silent code for moments
when Tyler misses his father too much for words.
Mrs. Jordan looks at her son, and he simply points at the sky.
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