1745 hours May 14, 2005 our family got a last hug and said a final goodbye as we had to leave Ft. Stewart (GA) by 1800 after Mike's departure ceremony. The last fifteen minutes needed to be for him and his high school sweetheart now 20 year old bride of ten days to say their final goodbyes. As I got to the car, my family already in, I paused, turned and took one more look. Mike and Niki were embraced oblivious to anyone else, for many like them were doing the same. A small still inner voice, one I believe is God's way of talking to me, said "take a good long look, for it is your last." I wanted to take him with me, hide him away. But he was a man and even though my son, he now belonged to a country. He was an American Soldier. 1745 hours May 15, 2005 Mike said I only have a few minutes dad, for I am about to go on the plane and we have to shut our phones down and my battery is about to die. I love you he said, and so said I to him. The line went dead, not sure whether he had to hang-up or the battery played out. I still have his cell number in my phone under "Bubba" the nickname his brother Wes, then too young to say brother, gave him. Sister Abbey wanted to have her unique bond with his name, so she shortened it to Bubs... When I hear someone say they hate cell phones and how terrible for our society they are, I quietly wonder if they had someone far away and a cell phone would be vital to keeping connected if they might think differently? I still call Bubba every so often even though I know it goes to the service provider's standard message. "This number is no longer in service...." 2300 hours May 16, 2005 after a long flight and several stops, Mike called me from Kuwait. They were on the ground and in a few days would move north into Iraq. He sounded good albeit tired. I was relieved he was their safely if that makes sense, for planes fly high over deep water in the Atlantic and sink fast if they go down.... And you don't know where or how they are doing in that long flight, at least back in 2005 you didn't. 1000 hours June 18, 2005, a missed call from a son now in Baghdad and even in the Green Zone, danger of attack did not avoid his brigade as several hurt when rocket propelled grenades were lobbed in. Disappointed I kicked myself for having missed the call into my cell from Mike, but warmed at the sound of his voice, knowing he was trying to call me for Father's Day. Then as I got home later that Saturday, a card postmarked APO Baghdad in my mailbox. Amazed as I opened and read it, treasuring the hand written note and signature "love Mike". How much love could a father ask of a son in war for that son to find time to send a card to arrive perfectly timed for Father's Day. IAnd even more and equally as good - Mike called again and I got to talk to him for Father's Day. Our last.... I still listen to his voice on the first missed call. I will read his card again this Sunday. 0700 hours August 16, 2005, the phone rings and a voice said "Is this Mr. Stokely?" Yes. "I am Major Hulsey and I am here with Chaplin Diccoppo and we need to speak with you urgently but your dog will not let us to the door. Mike's dog Patches the Pit Bull was barking protectively with fury standing watch at the front door. My heart sank as I knew the drill - if you you get a Commissioned Officer and Chaplin at your door, your son (or daughter, husband, mother, father) is dead. But I hoped I was wrong as I said "I'll be right out" and ran without touching the ground to meet them in the drive, and as I approached, asking "is my boy dead..." Their faces and pause, very likely caught off guard by my question, but more likely not wanting to answer it with the truth, Major Hulsey, as kindly as he could, professionally said "I regret to inform you that SPC Mike Stokely was killed in action earlier this morning." A moment of being unable to speak, breathe, even cry as I seemingly had a giant vacuum sucking all air, even life itself, out of me. A flash, brief as it was, of bitterness, wanting to blame someone or something as though that makes it better. Yet, in that flash, I heard a different inner voice, a voice that spoke from a memory of a son loved and lost. As though I could hear him, that inner voice said "breathe, breathe, now stand-up and think and act honorably. Look after my guys. Look after my family." And as though jolted by a new energy of commitment, I stood up and started asking how, when, where; how was with him and who else got killed? Two wounded, take care of them I said, bring them home alive to their families, get me their names..... And from that moment when I stood up, a broken hearted father, I determined that I would conduct myself in only one way regarding Mike and his death in Iraq: Rather than blame in bitterness, Remember with Honor. 6:30 p.m. local June 16, 2005 she said it was time to go. Goodbye. I love you and will miss you Dad. I tried to remain stoic because I didn't want to dampen her adventure, hugging her and wishing her a great trip. I love you. It had been a long few months, then few weeks, and the last few days and even...
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Posted
Jun 18 2011, 01:33 AM
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BLACKFIVE