Those left behind
War widows find ways to cope, but there's really no cure for the pain
Sgt. Harvey Emmett Parkerson III chose a Marine Corps career, and his wife, Amanda, was happy with it. "I loved that lifestyle, the stability, knowing we were going to have a paycheck, a roof over our heads because we lived on base. The medical care was free," she says. He was 27 when he died on August 18 in Najaf. She now lives with her parents but will soon move to be near the Camp Pendleton, Calif., base she loved. "There's the type of widow that doesn't want anything to do with military. And then there's a widow like me. I want to be submerged in it. Not only have I lost my husband," she says, "but I've lost my military family."
Too old? Staff Sgt. Gene Arden Vance Jr. was 38 when he was shot by the Taliban in Afghanistan on May 19, 2002. When he and Lisa married in 2001, her idea of the National Guard was that he would be gone once a month and two weeks a year. "I thought we were too old for him to be going off to war," she says. She was pregnant when he left, but a month later, she fell down, shattered her ankle, and lost the baby. After her husband died, she tried to find a psychological counselor, but no one in her town would take Tricare, the insurance benefit for survivors. She called the VA for help. "I was told that I had to bring my sponsor. I kept telling them, he's dead. They said, 'You can't come in for counseling without your sponsor.' They were adamant that I had to bring my dead husband in to get counseling," she said. Eventually, a local therapist donated her time. In August, the VA authorized its centers to include survivors like Vance in bereavement counseling programs.
Even under the best of circumstances, healing comes slowly. The small town of Cleveland will miss Chuck Kiser as Little League coach. His children will miss his surprises, like being suited up for sledding when they get off the school bus on the first day it snows. "He was the director of fun in this house," says Deb. When she sits with her morning coffee and talks about what she's lost, she tears up and whispers, "Companionship."
With Elizabeth Querna, Angie Cannon, Nancy E. Shute, Marianne Szegedy-Maszak, Daniel Gilgoff, Carol Susan Hook, Jennifer L. Jack, Nancy L. Bentrup, Allegra Moothart, Ann M. Wakefield, Jill Konieczko and Monica M. Ekman
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