Guest Post: The Shoes

It is a pleasure to welcome a very special guest to the blog today. For many months now, you have journeyed with me as I have grieved the loss of my dear friend Marine Ssgt. Alex Ramon III, who passed away suddenly at the age of 31. In the weeks that followed, his parents and I began to share this journey of loss together and to find news ways of remembering their son and my "brother" who meant so much to all of us. Last fall, his dad approached me with a request: would I put my writing skills to use and help him edit a story he wanted to share about Alex? Having done the same for Alex's school papers in the past, I was more than happy to assist. That story ended up being published in the official Marine Corps magazine, Leatherneck, last December...right around the anniversary of Alex's passing. So fitting. Due to space constraints, the published version was an edited one of the original, and I told Alex's dad that I would post the complete version here on the blog. With Memorial Day approaching, this seemed the right time to share this moving story of love, loyalty, friendship, loss, and service. So, grab some kleenex, and take a few minutes to read about a selfless act that will touch your heart. 

Without further adieu, I give you the story of "The Shoes" as told by Alex's dad and my friend, Marine Capt. Alex Ramon II...

"This is the genesis of a true story that began on the morning of a beautiful summer day. Little do we realize that treasured days like this are not immune from the occurrence of tragic days. So began that summer morning when our son received the dreadful news of the passing of a close Marine friend. This phone call would change the lives of two families forever. 

John was a dear friend to our son. They both had previously served together on one of many combat in tours in Iraq/Afghanistan, shared the hardships of losing friends in battle, and struggled to survive the completion of their own combat tours. With tears in his eyes and a stare that was a thousand miles away, our son slowly said, "Dad, one gets calloused to seeing awful things in war, but you never get used to seeing a fellow Marine die." The three combat tours our son had endured and the toll they had taken was now clearly seen on his face. Alex III had aged beyond his birth years. 

Our son was processing the news and was in a somber, distant gaze when another phone call interrupted his thoughts. The family of his deceased friend was requesting our son's presence. A Marine was needed to supervise and direct the funeral home on the proper placement of their son in his dress blue uniform - an honored tradition that Marines respectfully preform for their own without question or hesitation. This would, understandably, be an extremely tough assignment but one that my son would not delegate to anyone but himself. In the wink of an eye, our son left for Arkansas to be with his fallen comrade and to support his deceased friend's family. 

Arriving in Arkansas, our son immersed himself in the sorrowful task at hand. At the funeral home, our son immediately noticed that John's shoes for his dress blue's were missing. A call to the family requesting the shoes provided no results. John's family was understandably so distraught that processing the idea of looking for the shoes had no priority. Without further burdening the family, our son took the initiative and acted quickly to remedy the situation. 

The seasons changed, people forget, and time slowly went by. But the emotional wound and memory of losing a son remained for John's family - a severe emotional injury that left no predictable time-frame for healing. John's family was doing their best to cope with their tragic loss. Our son was keeping in touch with the family and providing comfort as best he could. And then it happened. 

Two years later, the unimaginable occurred: our son passed. How can you understand or explain the pain of losing a child? Nothing can prepare you. To comprehend outliving your child is impossible. It's not supposed to happen - especially if your child is your only son. A son that's supposed to carry on your family's name. 

 Father & son: Capt. Alex Ramon II & Ssgt. Alex Ramon III

Remembering what our son endured with the task of supervising the preparation of his friend for the funeral, we requested the Marine assigned to this duty not be a friend or acquaintance of our son. We did not want to inflict more sorrow on anyone else, especially a fellow Marine. Funeral arrangements had to be made. We were numb and going through the motions. The sudden loss placed us in limbo. The days were empty, and the nights filled with inconsolable sorrow. Processing our son's death and accepting the reality were two insurmountable tasks. Just like John's family, we received a call from the funeral home. The funeral director said, "We have received the uniform, but we still need his shoes." We had no idea of the whereabouts of our son's shoes. The shoes were not an issue we wanted to deal with at that present time. 

As funeral arrangements were progressing (minus the shoes), Marines and family were coming by our home to give their condolences. One of these Marines had been contacted by John's family. John's family wanted to speak with us. A time was prepared, and the two fathers with a common loss spoke to each other. Difficult as it was, a small, polite conversation ensued. John's dad told us his family was coming from Arkansas to attend our son's funeral. I said, "Of course. That would be nice. My wife and I would be extremely grateful and would surely welcome the support." John's father paused, then proceeded to request a favor that rekindled my faith and placed it in high gear. John's father said, "It would be an honor if you would allow Alex to wear John's shoes." 

At this point, I was stunned since I knew the funeral home needed shoes for our son's uniform. Had John's father spoken to the funeral home? This thought raced through my head. I was confused but at the same time, relieved. "Of course, we would do it; it would be an honor," I answered. Hearing this, John's father was overjoyed and immediately commenced to recount the story of how his family could not locate John's shoes for their son's funeral. Now that time and passed, they had unexpectedly found the shoes. 

John's family went on to describe the unselfish act our son performed the day of their son's funeral. Knowing John's shoes were missing, our son took immediate action. Alex III took of his own shoes and had them placed on his friend. We had no idea all this had occurred. Our Son had never mentioned what he had done. Hearing this story overwhelmed us with grief. This unexplainable coincidence was difficult to comprehend. We shared with John's family that we could not find Alex's shoes. Now we knew why. 

The burial proceeded, and our son got buried with John's shoes as John was already buried with Alex's shoes. 

John, Zack, & Alex by the Euphrates River

It was in 2015 that this incident occurred but, to us, it feels like yesterday. An invisible wound remains. At times, without warning, that wound suddenly re-opens, and it hurts like the dreadful day it happened. Faith remains the best remedy for the pain, especially believing that God intervened in the lives of these two Marines and made this amazing story possible. Two different families, from two close friends, were tasked to walk in each other's shoes. A heavenly hint, purposely left behind, by the spirit of two fallen warriors. 

What is left now is a loving, indelible memory of our sons that were friends in life, friends in death, and friends for eternity. A living testament to the bond Marines share that transcends explanation. 

Rest in peace, Marines, as you proudly walk through Heaven's pearly gates, sharing each other's shoes."