We people like to remember stuff about our big accomplishments, especially lasts. I had a cool job last summer; I was given a big project and got to drive around a cool car. That’s a good feeling. I don’t recall my first day on the job, but I do very well recall my last day. I had some final stuff to do: tie up loose ends in my company email account, finish a final status report for my supervisor to use, get all my company equipment together, clean out the aforementioned cool car, et cetera. But that is not all. That last day is forever etched deep into my heart. My friend died.

At around 8:30am, I got a call; it was my older brother Jason. I stepped outside.

Hey Jason, what’s up?

Uh–Dave–just…something to pray for…

His voice wavered and was slightly gravely. Something was wrong…something was very, very wrong. A horrid cold fear set in; my mind flew: what happened? The first thing I wondered was what could’ve happened to his girlfriend/fiance, Meggan. I knew they couldn’t have broken up. Fear set harder in my bones; maybe Meggan was injured or worse, dead. Jason spoke again after a brief silence, before I had time to think any more; his voice cracked badly as he spoke.

Joe White died in Afghanistan

There was a silence on both ends. We each knew there was nothing else to say;

OK–bye Jason.

Bye Dave.

I hung up. The horrid fear in my bones, realized, curdled to shock. I forgot to breathe for a bit, then took breaths, slow shallow breaths. I prayed, but I can’t remember what I prayed.

I stood outside the office. I don’t remember hearing any noises from the shop or the yard or the freeway. Nothing. Deathly still. I walked over to a rock wall, set down, and cried and cried and cried; I don’t know how long I cried for. I called a few friends to ask for prayers for Joe’s family, but realized I couldn’t make it through a call like that. I called a few other close friends, but sent text messages to the rest. I sat down again and cried more. All at the same time I could not get my mind around it and it hurt like hell and I was cold and numb. I prayed more as I cried; I don’t recall what I prayed then either.

My friend had died in war serving his country; he left behind his newlywed wife and brothers and sisters and mother and father and many dear friends. He left behind a church and youth group that loved him. He left a gaping hole in countless hearts and knit communities. He died a soldier at war for his country.

Joe, I hope you can see this; today so many of us down here remember you, love you, miss you, and weep for you; I hope you can hear it all, or even just a little bit of it; Joe, I don’t feel worthy to say it, but if you can read this, thank you.

U.S. Army Specialist Joseph V. White was born on July 24th 1988 and killed in action in Afghanistan on September 24th 2009; husband, brother, son, friend, good man, follower of God,  paintball and ultimate frisbee extraordinaire. He was Airborne certified and loved to jump out of planes.