Families of 37 fallen military members observed Hawaii’s first-ever Gold Star Mother’s Day on Sunday with a unique twist and some local flair.
They gathered for a remembrance ceremony at the base of the stark white monument that towers over the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific at Punchbowl before trekking up the large stairway to lay down the boots of their loved ones and place a 10-foot ti leaf lei at the foot of the Lady Columbia statue.
"Lady Columbia symbolizes all grieving mothers and overlooks this beautiful cemetery where our heroes rest at peace," said Michael Amarosa, director of family and morale, welfare and recreation programs for U.S. Army Garrison Hawaii, during opening remarks.
Gold Star Mother’s Day has been nationally recognized on the last Sunday in September since 1936 as a day to honor mothers who have lost sons and daughters in combat. The event takes its name from a service flag that families flew in their windows with blue stars on it for active-duty members serving in the military and gold stars for fallen members.
Lis Olsen, Army Community Service Outreach director and program manager for the Survivor Outreach Services Center at Fort Shafter, said she wanted Hawaii’s first Gold Star Mother’s Day ceremony to have a twist.
"There are many family members who are left out of that, so I’d like to say this is a remembrance and a ceremony to honor our soldiers, our fallen or our military but also to, at the same time, honor their families," said Olsen, who lost her son, Army Cpl. Toby Olsen, a 28-year-old Mililani High School graduate, when he was killed in Iraq in 2007.
Col. Daniel Whitney, commander of the garrison, echoed her sentiment in his guest speech.
"We honor all the Gold Star mothers, and we also honor all members of their Gold Star family," Whitney said. "The fathers and brothers and sisters, the aunts, the uncles, the cousins and, yes, the keiki.
"Lt. Gen. Rick Lynch said it best," he added, referring to the retired commander of III Corps in Texas. "‘If you want to know the cost of freedom, look into the eyes of the children of the fallen."
Nathan Johnson is one of those children.
"Mommy, the music stopped," the toddler said after "The Star-Spangled Banner" and "Hawaii Pono‘i" were sung. He waited impatiently to set his dad’s boots up by the statue.
Julie Johnson said her son, who turned 3 on Sept. 11, understands that his father is gone.
"Sometimes he forgets and other times he remembers, so it’s nice to have something like this where we can come and help him remember my husband and what’s going on in a more positive way," she said. "He handles it, I guess, just the way we do, but in a simpler fashion. He says sometimes, you know, ‘I’m angry.’ And sometimes he says he’s happy when he looks at Nick’s pictures. It’s really just like how we do, but in a simpler way."
Johnson lost her husband of nine years, Chief Warrant Officer 2 Nicholas S. Johnson, 27, of San Diego in April when the Black Hawk helicopter he was in crashed in southern Afghanistan.
"Today means for me that I can come out here with my son and just remember and honor my husband and his father," she said, "and be with the other families that lost someone."
Carmen and Ishmael Stagner said they enjoy events sponsored by the Survivor Outreach Services Center because it gives them a chance to comfort grieving families and deal with their own pain.
"We stay with this because, for us, we have three other sons and one daughter, and we have a whole bunch of grandkids," Ishmael Stagner said. "For many of these others that we have here, they lost the only daddy, they lost the only husband, they lost the only uncle, they lost the only son, they lost the only sister. And so as a result, when we meet with the younger ones especially, we try to put our arms around them and to hug them and tell them it’ll be better."
The Stagners lost their son, Staff Sgt. Brandon "Kekoa" Stagner, when he committed suicide in 2008 after serving 14 years and completing five deployments to Afghanistan and Iraq.
"These types of experiences are healing experiences because we all hurt," Ishmael Stagner said of the event. "It’s that brotherhood or that sisterhood or ohana-hood of hurt that brings us together, but also it’s an opportunity to heal."
