A new column exploring the complex connections of modern families.
I am still not sure what hits me the hardest, Father’s Day, his birthday or the anniversary of his death. At least Memorial Day brings pride with the pain.
My son and I lost our soldier, First Sgt. Charles Monroe King, in October 2006, just 30 days before he was due to come home from a yearlong tour of duty in the United States Army in Iraq. The improvised explosive device that detonated under his armored military vehicle shattered his body and our lives. Jordan was just 6 months old and met his father only once, during a two-week leave from the war.
Since then, we have lived through nearly a decade of his absence – from parent-teacher conferences, from holiday dinners, from trips…