In wake of death, family reflects on what was, what could have been

[undeterred]

Mark Maida still makes them laugh. That was what he brought to the party, to the family, even to the war. He brought the fun. Now he makes them cry, too. "He always wanted to make sure we weren't hurting. He wanted to show us that, 'Look, hey, I'm OK,'" said Betsy Jacobs, Mark's girlfriend. "There were times he said it was hard for him, but he knew it was harder for us because we didn't know what was going on."

Mark, 22, a 2001 graduate of Memorial High School, died last week in Iraq. He was a crew member on a Humvee on night patrol in Diyarah, when a homemade bomb exploded, killing him and wounding two other crew members. He had just been promoted to sergeant with the U.S. Army's 2nd Squadron, 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment. "He was counting the days, the hours. He had a lot of dreams," said Betsy.

Wednesday afternoon, led by parents Ray and Diane Maida, family and friends continued to tap a well of memories of their friend, brother and son. They brought out the goofy photos Mark sent back from Iraq, wearing bunny ears at Easter, cooking marshmallows over a tiny stove. They remembered him "coming through Madison like a hurricane" on leave from assignment in the Mojave Desert.

And they continued, quietly but firmly, not wanting to spoil the message of their love for their son and what he was and could have been, to question the support the government gives its troops at war and the military policies that circulate soldiers beyond their tours of duty.

http://www.madison.com/wsj/home/local/index.php?ntid=42135&ntpid=2

That picture of his father and brother, on the front page this morning, says it all.

[northzax]

1. that sucks

all the deaths are a trajedy, and every story should be told.

[Rainbowreflect]

2. I am glad these stories still make me cry.

I do not want to become numb to their suffering.

[undeterred]

3. Even one death is enormous.

He remembered last Thursday night, when he and his wife and son Chris went out to eat and listen to an Irish band.

"It was about 10 p.m. and I went in to the bedroom to lay down. Diane went to get a book to read.

"She came back in and said, 'There's a man in a uniform at the front door and he has to talk to both of us.'"

The message was brief, the sorrow immediate and inescapable.

"I didn't want him to leave," Ray said.

"I kept asking him to please stay here. I kept touching him, I kept grabbing at his coat."

:cry: