I didn’t know Sgt Terry Edward Jones, he was killed in Vietnam about a year before his parents moved into their new home two houses down the street from ours. I was about 16 or 17 then.
His parents Ed and Bev Jones sort of adopted me not long after they moved into their new home. I spent many weekends working at their place. They had two horses, a flock of chickens, two peacocks, two monkeys and two myna birds, Henry and Ben.
One summer I even worked for Ed’s son-in-law.
I knew about Terry and where and how he died. I never saw a picture of him, and I suspect now, I know why. I know Terry was working on the old car Ed had in the carport. I know Terry was teaching Henry a new phrase that only Terry knew and Henry always attempted to repeat.
I know his loss touched his parents, sister and grandmother in ways I will never understand.
This morning Sandi and I went to see The Moving Wall while it is here in Columbus. All those names, young men and woman taken from us, a generation lost, except for The Wall and those that knew of them or about them.
I felt strange asking where on The Wall Terry’s name is, as I said, I never met Terry E Jones. All I had was a name, state, and an approximate year he died. The staff was helpful, and as it happened there were just two Terry Jones from California on The Wall. His home town and middle name, his dad’s, told me the lady had found the right young man.
We found his name on The Wall and made a rubbing of his name. That is where I met Terry after all these decades. That is when his loss hit me with such a powerful sadness. And now hours later writing this, the page blurs in the tears of that loss.
The Wall is something one must see, either in DC, or the one on tour. Take the time to see it. Take the time to talk with the Vets who volunteer to help. And cry with them, even if you never met any of the names.
Terry Edward Jones, it was nice to meet you at long last. You did your parents proud. Rest in the Hands of the Lord, you earned it.