My friends son died in Iraq yesterday

[DanKellFla]

He was 25. It was an I.E.D. All I can do is light a candle for him and pray. His brother just got married last week and is coming home from his honeymoon tommorow. I don't know what I am going to say to his parents when I see them tommorow. It is just terrible.

[Stephanie]

I am so sorry for their loss!

Please tell them that prayers are on their way from the S2K family and our THANKS for his sacrifice.

I'm sure that you will be like everyone else - at a loss for words. However, they will appreciate that you took time to visit them.

[vbhoutex]

Sometimes it is best just to listen and let them talk. Sometimes we just need to let them vent, cry, whatever they need to assuage their greif. Being there is often what is needed more than anything.

Please do let them know that we are praying for them(and you) and that we honor their hero for his sacrifice for our freedom.

[Ptarmigan]

I am sorry to hear that. Condolences to you and your family. God bless your son and family. Your son served America. God bless him.

[rainydaze]

I am so sorry for your friends loss of her son. My husband's step-cousin Hope Veverka lost her son Brandon in 2004, he was only 21 years old. Here is a recent article that tells the story of Brandon and his brave mother Hope.

Still singing Brandon's song: The only son of a single mother dies in Iraq

By TOM TREWEEK/OBSERVER STAFF REPORTER

Hope Veverka's soft, slender fingers reached for her eyes, but she was not in time to stop her tears from tracing a path through the makeup on her cheek, a journey they had made many times before.

The droplets, emblems of the story she relayed, flowed with the certainty of tradition. She made no effort to hide them, instead only dabbing away the moisture as it accumulated.

Speaking the words she has no doubt endlessly rehearsed and recited, Veverka's countenance showed the fortitude of her spirit. Even in her tears, there is strength.

The moisture hugging her eyes' edges only punctuated the story of her son's death in a Middle East battlefield.

As of Friday morning, 3,434 American soldiers had died in Iraq. Army Pfc. Brandon Robert Sapp was No. 962.

On Aug. 18, 2004, Sapp, barely an adult at age 21, was driving an M2 Bradley fighting vehicle in Najaf. His cargo, a handful of his fellow soldiers, was secured inside. At about 1:30 a.m., stopping short of a bridge, Sapp unexpectedly halted the transport. The soldiers with him later told his mother that he had a suspicion something was amiss.

Evacuating the vehicle, the band of men found nothing suspicious, no sign of the threat they now faced. They returned to the Bradley and prepared to move on.

Instead of driving forward, Sapp shifted into reverse to align his vehicle for the bridge. It was the last thing he did.

Under the vehicle laid an improvised explosive device, a bomb, a booby trap. It exploded.

The vehicle's front end rose into the air with the force of the explosion. The men inside were injured. Sapp was dead. If he had driven forward, they all would have shared his fate, Veverka said.

Recounting her loss, Veverka is always searching for her son, her only child. Her hand reached out for him, a reflex, but her fingers only grasp dark green fabric, a uniform he once wore that is now the only touch he can offer his mother.

It is her most painful story and the one she wants most to tell.

"The longer he's gone from this earth, the less I get to talk about him," she said.

It was a Sunday morning, about 7:15, when Veverka learned her son's fate. A knock on her door, a soldier standing on the other side, was all the confirmation she needed. Still protected by the walls of her Florida home, Veverka screamed and cried, but she refused to open the door.

A single mother since her son was two, Veverka spent the next three weeks weeping alone on her kitchen floor.

"I was alone, and I didn't know what to do," she said.

Veverka found comfort in the arms of other mothers, other families, who, like her, were mourning their own losses. She found purpose in walking with others as they found their way through tragedy.

A memorial stone to honor the fallen and "Candles of Hope" sent to the families of the fallen helped Veverka reach out to others. Her influence was also felt in Washington D.C., where military leaders altered policy to be more sensitive to the families of their fallen men and women.

Despite her work there, Veverka fled Florida for Rio Rancho last year. The emotions fostered by that environment, she said, proved overwhelming.

"Everywhere reminded me of him," she said.

Now, she is free from the reminders, the locations where she shared 21 years with her son, but she has not left him behind. Throughout her house, there are pictures - the mother with her son, the boy alone, smiling - but in one small room, Veverka has constructed a memorial of her son the soldier.

Pictures, collages, letters he sent home all crowd the walls, as do newspaper articles detailing his death. On the floor, in the corner of the room, lies a pair of black combat boots, standing at attention as Sapp once had. The uniform for which her hands unconsciously reach hangs from the door, guarding the memorial.

Fashioning the room was a relief, Veverka said. The items embraced by the memory of her son's last days were no longer in storage - her son was no longer in storage.

She is not yet whole in her new home. Veverka still misses the sustenance she drew from her comrades in loss. Through many different accounts of the same experience, Veverka found comfort and camaraderie in a sea of shared emotions.

"Just to know you're not alone is important," she said.

Although she abandoned Florida and the memories inherent to her former home, Veverka has not forsaken her mission and is contemplating assembling mourning families in Rio Rancho so they can offer each other the support and encouragement that helped her overcome her loss a world away.

There is no instantaneous healing for these families, she said, but there may be hope.

"The pain never really goes away," Veverka said. "It lessens so you can go on with your life, but it never really leaves you."

She points to a bumper sticker fastened to the wall, hanging above a patchwork of her son's letters home. It reads, "There are no unwounded soldiers."

Her eyes say the same is true for their families.

http://www.observer-online.com/articles/2007/05/29/news/story2.txt

Hope has done alot for families who have lost their children in the Iraq war. She made "Candles of Hope" for families which is a candle she personally makes in memory of the fallen soldier and she's been involved in a group that makes memory quilts for the families also.

If there is a right time maybe you could tell your friend about Hope and she can send her an email because Hope has spoken to many families that have lost loved ones in the war. Her email is: Hleaglee@bellsouth.net"

May God bless all our soldiers and their families.

[Jinkers]

[CajunMama]

Just be there for your friends. You don't have to say anything at all. A hug, pat on the back can say more than words. My niece's husband was wounded by an ied and died this past march and it still doesn't seem real. Such a tragic loss of young lives.

[wxmann_91]

My prayers go out to the family of your friend's son, and to all of those soldiers who are fighting out there. God bless them all.

[Rainband]

God Bless this young soul

[Berwick Bay]

I think VBHOUTEX makes the point. You don't have to say too much. Just be there and listen. And at this point the loss and the grief or the main thing. We know that he died in the service of his country, but right now, the parents may be in such pain, that I think the focus should just be on listening and sharing the loss. And you are very important to them at this time. This is going to affect you too. May God be with you all.

[tropicana]

terrible news really, i'm so sorry.
he paid the ultimate sacrifice in helping fight the evil forces in Iraq. He will be rewarded richly, this i know for sure.
Stay strong..
-justin-