I'm proud of our Vietnam Veterans
My Big Brother
Many years ago I had the opportunity to go to Washington DC and visit the Vietnam Memorial. I remember doing a rubbing of your name and when I started there was only one person behind me whom I knew. When I finished and turned around there must have been 50 people there watching me. I looked for the person I knew and couldn’t find them in the crowd and even with all of those people watching I have never felt so all alone.
Several years later I took Mom and our sister Terry to visit The Wall because I knew Mom would never get there on her own. You can only imagine the heartbreak that Mom felt on being there and seeing your beloved name. She always said that a parent should never outlive their children. She loved you dearly as we all still do. Today, Mom would have been 85. She left us in 2009…one day after she turned 77.
I would have liked you to meet my beautiful wife. We have several pictures of you up in our house and am reminded of you and still think back…..and remember the knock on the door that changed our lives forever. We wish you were here….but one day we know we’ll get to see you and Mom again. Until then big brother we have to wait and remember…….
Remembering an American Hero
Dear PVT Jackie Dean Stogsdill, sir
As an American, I would like to thank you for your service and for your sacrifice made on behalf of our wonderful country. The youth of today could gain much by learning of heroes such as yourself, men and women whose courage and heart can never be questioned.
May God allow you to read this, and may He allow me to someday shake your hand when I get to Heaven to personally thank you. May he also allow my father to find you and shake your hand now to say thank you; for America, and for those who love you.
With respect, and the best salute a civilian can muster for you, Sir
Jackie was my friend in Nam
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
Mary Frye – 1932