John and Jean Spitzer were special guests at the Texas Bombers organization annual banquet held last Saturday night in San Marcos, Texas.

And, to be perfectly honest, they wished for all the world they wouldn’t have had to be there for the reason they were invited.

On June 25, one of their two sons, Marine Sargeant Thomas Spitzer was serving as a mortarman with 1^st Battalion, 7^th Marine Regiment, 1^st Marine Division in Afghanistan when he was killed while undertaking combat operations.

Saturday night, the Bombers organization—led by Program Director Scott Smith, a 23-year veteran of the Army—brought in the Spitzers and presented them with a framed jersey worn by one of the stars of the organization, Brooke Vestal, a 2018 pitcher who has committed to Oklahoma.

The pinnacle of the evening was when the guests were invited on stage in front of the approximately 1,000 guests and Brooke and Coach Smith presented the Spitzers with a framed Bomber jersey. This year, Brooke will wear a jersey that will carry Thomas Spitzer’s name—part of the “4 the Fallen” program the Bombers implement to remember the Fallen Soldiers who lost their lives in service of their country.

While this past weekend had some great and significant softball events, including the Jr. National Team tryout in Irvine, Calif., the Banditfest event in Illinois and the Rising Stars tournament in Florida, I wanted to come to Texas for the weekend to witness what I expected would be a powerful and significant ceremony—not just a celebration of softball, but a tie-in to a bigger reason, a more important cause.

I was not disappointed.

***

When his body was returned to his hometown of New Braunfels, Texas, the reception for Sargeant Spitzer was one that the city between San Antonio and Austin will never forget as hundreds from his hometown turned out to welcome him home.

One of the lanes of the 35 North freeway was closed for the motorcade which included 187 motorcycles leading the young soldiers’ remains.

The other side of the freeway came to a halt, too, as motorists stopped when they realized what was happening and many silently saluted the soldier who gave the ultimate sacrifice in behalf of his country.

Guests at the dinner came up to the Spitzers and stated where they were for that procession. It was as if they needed to express their empathy by saying they too were part of the mourning process.

When I was told I would be sitting at their table, next to the parents who surely most still be grieving—in a cruel twist of fate, Christmas Day was the exact six month anniversary of their son’s death— I was, frankly, nervous.

What do you say that is appropriate? Would I inadvertently say something painful? How do you say thank you when words don’t really matter?

As a parent, I cannot fathom losing one of my children. I believe God knows who is strong enough to handle this nightmarish experience and I know I’m not one of them. I pray I’m never be put to that test.

But some, tragically, are and as I sat with this quiet, polite and likable couple, I looked at them and silently admired two people God trusted enough—I believe—to call one of His children home early for reasons we won’t know in this lifetime.

Perhaps putting tact and sensitivity to the side (I figured if I’m going to make a misstep I might as well do it out of the gate and get it over with), I asked John, “How are you? How do you deal with something like this?”

I’ll always remember his answer: “It’s like Tom is right beside me,” he said holding his right hand about a foot away from his face. “I always sense his presence and when I look forward, it’s like I’m looking through him. When I forget what happened, his presence next to me quickly reminds me he’s gone, but he’s still there.”

Honestly, at that moment and during the banquet several times I tried my hardest not to tear up. Another time was when I asked Jean how it was this past Christmas, the first, obviously, after their son lost his life.

“Someone, we didn’t know who, put a tree on our doorstep decorated with pictures of Tom. It was a wonderful gesture and appreciated, but it became tough to constantly be reminded he wasn’t there.”

The other guests at the table with us were all dressed similarly: they wore black shirts and khaki pants. It wasn’t hard to guess they were Marines – the chiseled physiques, abundant tattoos and unfailingly polite demeanor helped lead to that assumption—and I found out they were, all except one, in the same division with Sgt. Spitzer.

Not surprisingly, they were treated as heroes as several waves of young players asked to have their pictures taken with the good-looking soldiers.

After the emotional presentation of the framed jersey, there was other softball business to be done including MVPs, Offensive and Defensive Players of the Year and other similar honors for each team at every age division.

The seniors were honored and soon the banquet was drawing to a close. Before it did, however, Brooke’s father, Rick Vestal, texted me and asked if I’d keep the Spitzers at the table so the entire Vestal family could come say hello and meet them.

It was the start of what appears to be a friendship that will expand this year and beyond as Brooke will honor Thomas every time she takes the field. Jean said she had played softball all her life, only recently quitting because of a knee injury and promised she’d come watch Brooke pitch this year.

I stood back and admired how softball can be a balm to a painful wound that will really never heal. How a tall, talented 14-year-old pitcher can come into the lives of a grieving couple and help not only honor a young son too soon departed, but give them something to look forward to, the expression of youth and athletics.

Tom was a football player, only 5-foot-11 and 190 pounds but a defensive end who, according to his mother, “looked like a child lining up against those big offensive lineman he went against.” Still, he did it and succeeded on the athletic field as he would in the field of battle.

What I enjoyed, but also knew would impact me, was meeting the family of a fallen soldier. Because when you meet them, it’s not just a story you read in the paper, it’s real. You see this handsome soldier’s smiling face in a picture, hear funny stories about his youth and meet his flesh and blood and ache for them knowing there’s really nothing you can do.

But, the night was so worth it for a reason I really never anticipated because I learned that one of, if not the biggest fears, of families of fallen soldiers is that their loved one will be forgotten.

Scott Smith’s vision is to have every team in the country honor the fallen by wearing or displaying the soldier’s name in some manner. The program is expanding quickly and players from New Mexico to Louisiana to all parts of Texas are researching those who died in battle and honoring them and, most importantly, remembering them.

Still, as the coach, “I hope some day we don’t have to do this, but I don’t see that happening.

Amazingly, the softball players who take the field today have never lived in a time where there hasn’t been a war going on involving the U.S. It looks like the “4 the Fallen” program, unfortunately, will be in practice for a long, long time.

And that brings me back to the Spitzers.

They’ve been through hell and they’re still able to smile, laugh and carry on… and you wonder how. Jean says, when watching another bereaved couple on video be presented a framed jersey just like they received tonight, “It really hits you when see other families, but you lived through it and you hurt for others who are going through it too.”

What a wonderful evening in many ways, but still the thought lingers: “I wish they weren’t here.”

Not because I don’t like them… it’s because I really, really do.