The end of May is one of my favorite times of the year. The birds are chirping, the weather is getting nicer, the flowers are in bloom and we're heading into those glorious long summer days. Each year Memorial Day kicks off the summer season, but sometimes I wonder if we should stop and pause to really reflect on what the holiday actually means.
For some, Memorial Day is simply the kickoff to summer accompanied by an extra day off work. However, for Gold Star families, it's a reminder of the cost of our freedom. A Gold Star family is one who has had an immediate family member die in the line of military duty. Memorial Day isn't just a day off. It's a day to remember the brave women and men who gave their lives for our country, and it's a day to honor the loved ones they left behind. The ones who still feel the loss every day. The military members paid the ultimate price, but the families left behind are forever changed. Memorial Day is how we keep their stories alive.
In honor of Memorial Day this year, I want to tell you about a Marine named Benny G. Cockerham III. Or more affectionately known as Gray to those closest to him.
One Sunday back in 2005, my family arrived home to a message on the answering machine from my dad's best friend from the Marines, Ben. Before my dad even picked up the phone, he looked at my mom and said, "Something has happened with Gray." Somehow he just knew. Even before he heard the news on the other side of that line, he knew it wasn't going to be good. I guess that's how brotherhood goes sometimes. You just know.
To understand the rest of the story, I have to take you back to 1983, to how Gray and I ended up being family. I come from a long line of Marines, and so did Gray.
My dad, my favorite Marine, served our country proudly and speaks with such fondness of his time in the Marines. When he tells stories from those years, Ben comes up nine times out of ten. They came up in the ranks together in the 80s. They trained together, served together, and lived on the same cul-de-sac on base. To say our families were close would be an understatement. From the stories I've heard, Ben and my dad were thick as thieves. I can only imagine the trouble those two got into.
Marines have a creed they live by. Semper Fidelis. Latin for "always faithful." Most people know it by the shortened version, Semper Fi. It's the motto of the United States Marine Corps, but for the Marines I've grown up around, it isn't just words stitched on a patch. It's a way of living. Faithful to your country. Faithful to your fellow Marines. Faithful to the families who become yours along the way. My dad and Ben are Semper Fi in the flesh. They've been faithful to each other for over forty years now.
Our moms became close too. Jill and my mom were new wives and new mothers, raising small kids far from their own families. Military spouses are a special breed of human. They build family wherever they land, and other service members often become that family. Ben and Jill were those people for my parents. They were our California family.
When Gray signed up for the Marines right out of high school, my dad was proud to no end. My dad called him a "badass gunner." The military has its own language, but basically Gray ran the machine gun in the Humvee for his squad. Badass indeed.
When my dad called Ben back that Sunday, Ben confirmed that Gray had been killed in the line of duty in Iraq. Before my dad even hung up, my mom was already on the other line booking tickets out of our local airport. Ben told my dad they hadn't wanted to call because they didn't want my parents to feel obligated to come. But that's not how Semper Fi works. Always faithful means you show up. My parents were out the door in twenty minutes. My dad finally called Ben back from the tarmac. Ben asked him where he was, and my dad said, "Once a Marine, always a Marine. I'm on my way to you."
Gray was selfless until the very end. It turns out it was his day off the day he was killed. In true Marine fashion, when his friend was pulled away to escort a foreign dignitary, Gray volunteered to take his place on the patrol. He didn't have to be in that Humvee. He chose to be. He stepped up so someone else wouldn't have to, and that decision cost him his life. That's who Gray was. Always faithful. Always of service. Semper Fi until the very end.
Gray is buried at Arlington Cemetery, among rows and rows of white headstones that mark the women and men who gave their lives in service to the country they loved.
If you walk those rows, you'll see coins on many of the headstones. A penny means a friend or family member came to visit. A nickel means someone went through training with them. A dime means someone served with them. A quarter means someone was there in their final moments. Each coin is a memory. A recognition of a life lived, a family member loved, a friend cherished. The coins are how we say we remember.
Memorial Day is also a day of memories lost. Futures people will never have. This Memorial Day, my heart is with Gray's family. With Ben and Jill, who raised an extraordinary son. With his brother Adam, who lost more than most people can imagine. With every cousin, friend, and loved one who still feels the shape of Gray's absence twenty years later.
To the families left behind: the world keeps turning, but we know it doesn't turn the same for you. Memorial Day is heavy in a way most of us will never fully understand. Please know that Gray is not forgotten. None of them are. Your loved ones live on in every story told, every photo shared, every quiet moment of remembering.
Gray lived Semper Fi until the very end.
Cpl. Benny "Gray" Cockerham III, USMC. If I ever find myself near Arlington, I'll be sure to stop by and leave a penny on your headstone, so you'll know you have not been forgotten.
We remember you, Gray.
