By Paul Kidwell

Ten years ago my son died when he was an infant. It's a heartache from which I have never fully recovered and each time I hear a story about someone else's son or daughter dying I relive my sorrow. We all understand the grief parents feel when they have to live through the death of their child. It goes against what is thought as the natural order of life and yet since the war in Iraq began a year ago, there have been many mothers and fathers who have faced the tragic loss of their son or daughter on a remote Middle Eastern battlefield thousands of miles from home.

The parents of Dorchester's Daniel J. Londono are the most recent who must reconcile the killing of their son at the hands of Iraqi murderers. And like the 500 other families before them who also must consider a life without the joy and celebration that normally comes from watching your child emerge into young adulthood and beyond, the Londonos must resolve this loss. In their case they must piece together why it was their son who sadly found himself in the cross hairs of evil and met such a tragic end to his life, ironically, at the hands of another young man or woman who had parents who were perhaps just as deeply concerned for their own child's safety and welfare.

War is uncharacteristic of most life situations and it creates circumstances that will never be understood. And yet we, who are on the periphery of these events - like the Londonos - must accept the skewed normalcy that war presents to us. The only certainty to any war, is that young soldiers, like Daniel Londono, will die. When men and women fight each other with weapons that have the potential to kill, young people will meet a tragic end. It's an accepted part of the world of war where death is a constant companion and hangs over every moment of a soldier's existence. It's felt on the battlefield and imagined during the quiet times between battles.

What happened to Daniel Londono and the other U.S. soldiers who lost their lives in Iraq is the ultimate sacrifice any soldier can make. And as heartbreaking as it may be to his family, loved ones and fellow soldiers who must live with this loss and life without him, it is what he was supposed to do and we should all rejoice in this young man's noble sacrifice. For without these soldiers giving up the precious gift of life this world would be a malevolent place in which to fashion an existence. It has become a cliché, but yet no less true today when we say that these soldiers like Daniel die so people like us can live in the security and safety of a free country, and not walk in fear of the tyranny that still grips much of Iraq.

Will hearing about the heroism of their deceased children be enough to bring solace to the forlorn families? Will knowing that their child served their country valiantly bring reason to an unfathomable sorrow that weakens their heart and grips their spirit? Probably not. Parents want to have their children in their lives for as long as possible and can never imagine a life without them. Moreover, they can never comprehend a life interrupted in such a heartrending and unthinkable manner. But yet, they must know that people like me can never be more grateful to having these strangers choose a soldier's life of dedication and selflessness, and be willing to die for millions of us who they do not know, a large portion of whom do not believe in what Daniel and his fellow soldiers do, and what they represent to the rest of the world.

Mr. and Mrs. Londono, I will always be in your son's debt for what he did and will continue to make it a point in my daily reflection to think of this fine young man and what he represented to you, our community and the rest of the world. I know these sentiments and the well wishes of others do little more than provide a temporary balm to the pain none of us, but you, can understand. Daniel obviously had a heart that broke for others, a sensibility that led him to choose this path. But as you begin to reconstruct your life and try to fill the space in your heart where Daniel lived, please know that had my son lived, it would have been my fondest hope that he find a similar path as your son. To me, there would have been no greater honor than having a son who also had the courage to be a Patriot.

Paul Kidwell lives in Lower Mills.