To an Athlete, Dying Young (IGTNT, 3/24/07)

I’ve been luckier than many people, in that just about all of the deaths that have happened to people I know well have been expected – that is, those who died were elderly or sick for a long time. We all knew it was coming.

There were the sudden deaths in high school, of course. The drunk driving accident that killed a popular athlete who was a few years ahead of me. The anyeurism that killed a girl in my class, and the congenital heart defect that killed another young woman in my year. My high school was huge, and though I didn’t know these people, I knew their faces. Their deaths reminded me, at least for a minute, of my own mortality (before I went to meet my boyfriend for a quick smooch between classes).

The drunk driving accident I mentioned happened on a weekend. On Monday, I went to French class and saw a piece the fallout.

(Story continues below, along with "I Got the News Today," 3/24/07 edition.)

I can’t tell you anymore what sport Sam played, though it was probably soccer. He was skinny like a soccer boy and had those golden good looks of a classic jock bound for a sports scholarship at a small college. There he is in the yearbook, smiling like that forever: "Smart lad, to slip betimes away / From fields where glory does not stay/ And early though the laurel grows/ It withers quicker than the rose," as A.E. Housman wrote.

His girlfriend – Liane? -- a few years behind him, sat ahead of me in Mlle.’s class. She was a lovely and popular young woman, and the boys were crazy for her; but she was Sam’s. I don’t know why she was in school that day, but there she was, and, sitting in the back of the room, I watched her slump, lose focus, turn her face from side to side until she shook, and, finally, leave the room in tears.

I did nothing. I could have gone after her, or walked her to the nurse’s office, or just given her a hug. But I stayed in my seat. How could I have hugged her? We ran in such different circles and had nothing in common, and approaching her would have meant breaking a code. So I never had the chance to tell her... what, that I was sorry? That I knew how she felt? That it would be okay? What could I have said to her that would have been both honest and comforting?

One of those "landmark" high school reunions is coming up. I’m not going (even though I would love to show off my successful DH and my pregnant belly, how petty). But I think of Liane, and send her mental good wishes now – in hopes that she has a happy life, and was able to love again. I offer her an apology for not being a bigger person, and for not offering whatever comfort I could and should have.

I still don’t know what to say to a survivor when someone they love has died, and I don’t know what words can make their way through the cottony grief around the heart. But I have to believe that kind intentions count, even if the words are imperfect.

So it is with great sorrow that I say: To the families of Staff Sgt. Darrell R. Griffin Jr. and Sgt. Nicholas J. Lightner, please know that I mourn your sons’ deaths, and hope that you will find whatever comfort you may in the coming days, months, and years. I am so sorry.

Salem-News.com reports that Sgt. Nicholas J. Lightner died at Walter Reed, where he was receiving care for wounds he suffered on 3/15, "when an improvised explosive device detonated near his unit while on combat patrol in Baghdad."

The Oregonian has more:

NEWPORT -- As a middle school football player, Nick Lightner set a goal of one day going to the state playoffs. Four years later, Lightner and his Toledo High School teammates reached that goal, taking their team all the way to the semi-finals.

The big offensive lineman was officially a football hero, but friends and family knew another side of the strong, quiet athlete, said former Toledo school counselor Sandy Blackwell.

"Nick was a caretaker," Blackwell said. "He was very nurturing and caring."

On Wednesday, the 29-year-old Army medic died of injuries he suffered a week ago while trying to care for others in Iraq, his family said Thursday.

[snip]

When Lightner's close friend died in a car accident in their senior year, it was Lightner who looked out for his friend's young sister and supported the family as they grieved, Blackwell said.

"I'm not surprised he became a medic," she said. "It brought together the two sides of him: the big, strong football player who could do almost anything with the compassionate young man with the big, caring heart."

At Walter Reed, Nick Lightner learned he was the sole survivor of his team and spoke of his regret at not being able to save his fellow soldiers, said chaplain Geoff Bailey in a note to the family.

"He told me that he became a medic in order to help people and was frustrated that he was unable to do so after being injured," Bailey wrote.

The News-Tribune.com remembered Staff Sgt. Darrell R. Griffin, Jr., Bronze Star winner:

A Stryker infantryman credited with saving the lives of five U.S. and Iraqi comrades during his first deployment to Iraq in 2005 died Wednesday after he was struck by small-arms fire, the Department of Defense said Friday.

Staff Sgt. Darrell R. Griffin, Jr., a 36-year-old infantry squad leader, died at the U.S. military hospital in Balad after being shot in Baghdad. His unit came under fire as it was returning to base after conducting security operations in the Iraqi capital.

Griffin was assigned to the 2nd Battalion, 3rd Infantry Regiment, a part of the 3rd Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division from Fort Lewis. He was from Alhambra, Calif.

[snip]

Griffin, who was married, is the 93rd service member from Fort Lewis to die in the Iraq war.

A former commander, writing from Iraq, said Griffin was a tough, determined soldier. As a noncommissioned officer he was serious about taking care of his soldiers and pushing them to be their best, Maj. Brent Clemmer wrote.

"Griff was the type of man you want to have by your side in a fight," said Clemmer, his former company commander. "He was the type of squad leader every young soldier wants to have.

"He’s a tough SOB, but he is going to train you to the max and keep you straight when the bullets are flying," Clemmer wrote. "He was the type of NCO that any platoon leader or company commander could depend upon completely to seize any objective."

The Department of Defense has confirmed 3,230 deaths and the announcement of six more deaths is expected, pending notification of the next of kin, according to the Iraq Coalition Casualty Count. All of the U.S. fatalities can be seen here. The DoD news releases are here.

They all had friends and loved ones. Please visit the Iraq Veterans Memorial for a moving look at how a few of their survivors remember them. It will break your heart. If you want to do something more, please visit anysoldier.com,  Operation Helmet, and/or Fisher House.

I Got the News Today is a diary series intended to honor, respect and remind. Click here for the previous diary in this series, and here to see the series, which is maintained by i dunno, Sandy on Signal, silvercedes, and myself.