It also rained in North Carolina as Lance Cpl. Nathan R. Elrod, 20, was brought back to tiny Rockwell last Friday.
Killed Oct. 21 with three other Marines in Anbar province, he was welcomed home by aging veterans standing in the rain outside AMVETS Post 845, pots of flowers and American flags in their hands.
"He was one of my biggest idols all through school," said 17-year-old David Benfield, who was at the AMVETS post after Elrod's funeral Sunday and still wants to follow him into the military.
Elrod's girlfriend had also joined the Marines, Benfield said, and was given a short leave from boot camp to attend his funeral.
http://www.military-quotes.com/forum/hometowns-across-u-s-mourn-t27444.html
I found that when I was searching for this post.
I'm not whining... this happens far too often and many have experienced much more than I have. But as I sit here in my dorm room thinking back on the past year and how much my life has changed, there are a few things I just... can't help but type about.
If you search the Salisbury post, there are 18 articles that are devoted to his death in some way. I reread a few of them today, probably a mistake, but it reminded me of many things.
When I saw the first line of the quote, I was jolted back to a rainy Friday in October last year. The same Friday that I spoke of in my original post. I was already a little down, the week had been absolutely awful. If it could happen, it did, and this tight knit group of friends got the worst of it. My best guy friend at the time called me.
MR:"Jordan, there's been a wreck. Andrew and Trevor are in the hospital. I'm on my way to see Andrew right now. I'll let you know how bad it is."
Me: "Wait, do I know these people? Who is Trevor?"
MR: "Jordan. TREVOR."
Me: "Oh. Right. Trevor"
To make a long long long story short, that night I became known as the chick who left her wall charger for her cell phone in the car, and her car charger for her phone was in her purse. I had to be there for my best friend, who had been both Nathan & Trevor's best friend, and I couldn't let Michael drive by himself in the weather. I met the guys I lived with for the last year, and many other amazing people. I met the guy who I now call my best friend, pretty much my other half. We're not together officially, but we are responsible for one another's survival in some way over the last year.
It's just amazing what a line so simple as that can mean to someone. A story that isn't told. They never mentioned the friends that weren't there to greet his body because they were in the hospital. They don't mention that their best friends came to the top of a hill in time to see smoke and Andrew crawling across the street to get to Trevor. They don't talk about the ******* drivers who tried to cut into the funeral procession from Salisbury to Charlotte. So... whether you cared or didn't, you now know.
I miss the guy. I didn't know him that well, but I watched some of the strongest men I know cry and I've seen the looks in their eyes when they start to talk about him. I was there the night they drank to celebrate the 6 months of his death and his 21st birthday. Their old drinkin' buddy "since we were like 14 and all got completely trashed off the cheapest whiskey you've ever seen". I guess over the last year I've come to almost love him as my own friend, for I've heard his many shortcomings, but they've been surpassed by his love for everyone he met. And his friends reflect it also.
I guess it's just something you never really get past. It's almost funny because I've spent the week looking back on my less than honorable and greatly immature posts I've made here and was pretty glad I've managed to gain control of myself since then... And in this post, and pretty much this day, I've felt anything but control. So, I guess the only thing left for me to do is invite people to share their own experiences if they would like. It reminds me of the untold stories of Vietnam Veterans - it's not something anybody really wants to hear, but it's something that you really feel like you can't move on with until you say.
Semper Fi, Nathan. We miss you, we love you, and we can't wait to see you again....
