GOLD STAR MOTHERS
The American Gold Star Mothers was started by Grace Darling Siebold, the mother of an aviator killed in World War I.
After his letters stopped coming home, she began to visit veterans hospitals in Washington, clinging to a hope that her son might have been injured and returned to the United States without identification. While working through her sorrow, she helped ease the pain of the many servicemen and families she visited. From her own experiences, she helped found the organization to give support and care to soldiers and the families of soldiers who died while serving. The Gold Star name comes from the pennants and flags with gold stars that are given to the families to hang in their homes, noting the sacrifice they have made for the country. goldstarmoms.com
Editor’s note: Cindy Kruger of Villa Rica is a national officer in a service club whose members wish it did not have to exist, the American Gold Star Mothers. Those who belong to it have lost a son or daughter serving in a branch of the military.
The mothers help each other, each other’s families and surviving soldiers get through the tough times.
Her son, Sgt. Michael C. Hardegree, died in September 2007 in Iraq.
Before he was deployed, the two had a tough conversation.
“If something happens to me, I want to be buried in Arlington,” he began.
Kruger countered, “Let’s not talk about something happening.”
The 21-year-old pushed through her resistance.
“I don’t want to talk about it either, but we have to.”
Kruger now says, “And I’m glad we did.”
She will visit Mike’s grave today in Arlington National Cemetery.
This is her account of her expected day.
-- Staff writer Christopher Quinn
On Memorial Day morning, I’ll have breakfast at the White House.
I’m not sure of the guest list, but if this year is similar to previous years, I’ll have breakfast with the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Secretary of Veterans Affairs, the Secretary of Defense and either President Barack Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama, or Vice President Joe Biden and his wife. I have this invitation not because of anything that I have accomplished. I have this invitation because freedom is not free.
I have this invitation because my son Sgt. Michael C. Hardegree rests in peace in Arlington National Cemetery among heroes.
Later in the morning, I’ll go to the amphitheater at cemetery for the National Memorial Day ceremony.
As a Gold Star Mother, I will sit with the other moms; some from the Vietnam era, some from Beirut, Grenada, Panama, the U.S.S. Cole, Iraq, Afghanistan, and others from training accidents, PTSD, natural disasters in far-flung places – all mothers who have laid a child on the Altar of Freedom. We will hear speeches from dignitaries and see the pageantry that reminds us how our nation remembers their sacrifice. All of this is gratifying for the moms.
Our greatest fear is that our children will be forgotten.
When all the pageantry is over, however, I will make a private visit to grave 8060 at Arlington.
This is really where Memorial Day begins for me. This hallowed place is where I remember. If the weather is nice, I’ll have a seat and visit a while – if the weather is not nice, I’ll spread a plastic sheet and visit anyway. Section 60, where our fallen soldiers who served in Iraq and Afghanistan rest, is a surreal place. It is packed with visitors on Memorial Day.
Some come with lawn chairs, balloons, and flowers. Others come with cigars and beer. We all nod in acknowledgement that this is something we have to do – not in the obligatory sense, but in the visceral sense. We need to do this. We all give each other that space. It is quiet as we all have our private communion.
Here, I remember my son – the fiery, red head who was daring and courageous his entire life, the adolescent who pushed the boundaries, the defender of the underdog, the loving son, brother, and uncle, the true friend, and the decisive young man who stood his time in the line, did his duty and knew who he was.
During his time in Iraq Mike wrote a thank you letter to a kind lady who had sent a care package to “any soldier.”
He wrote, “… I will always look back at my time in the Army and be grateful for the things it has taught me. I will never forget my brothers who have fought beside me so bravely. War, for us, has more to do with love: love for our country, love for our friends and family back home, and love for each other. All we have over here is each other, and we will do anything to make sure each one gets home safe. I’ve just turned 21, and at times, I feel much older. It doesn’t bother me though. I’m better for it.”
He was proud of his mission. He was proud of his service.
And I hope that when he glimpses this life from Heaven, he knows that I will always be so very proud of him.
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