Well today I’ve reached the ripe old age of 39… Yeah I know this should be a joyous occasion, but in all honestly I never expected to see this age.. .. frankly I just never cared if I really did or not, at least I haven’t for quite a few years. You see it was on May 11, 1990 that I had to make the hardest decision of my life, that was to pull the plug on the life support systems keeping what was left of my 2 year old son Joshua R. Cochran in our world. He was the victim of child abuse at the hands of his own mother and her husband. A long story at best, but Joshua was to be staying with her for a couple month while I was to be out of town for a couple months to attend the US Army Drill Sergeant School in Missouri, needless to say within days of my scheduled departure I got a call to get to the Ft. Riley hospital immediately as it involved my son. I was greeted by several very high ranking individuals and several rather large MP’s, (I should note they were fellow MP’s with whom I worked with) the senior officers had given them instructions to physically stop me from getting through, token efforts were made to follow orders at best, you see most of the martial arts training they’d received was from me, and given the obvious mood I was in….glad you are already at the hospital if you wanted to actually obey that order, it was all in efforts to clear my ex from the room before I could get there, almost worked they went out one door as I came through the other.

While being given a quick run down of the events that precipitated and the immediate prognosis, the med flight was already landing on the helipad and he was to be airlifted to Kansas City University Medical Center for further treatment. As soon as he was loaded onto the bird I radioed back to the Control Desk that I was leaving, would explain later. Grabbed a change of clothes and was on the road, the hospital was 150 miles away, but managed to change clothes while driving. Looking back I was probably pretty lucky I didn’t kill myself getting there, as I arrived less than 10 mins after the bird landed.

Days of events passed, very few of which I can recall at all, except for the last few hours of the whole ordeal. Those will forever be ingrained in my memory, they replay daily. Test after test after test… and the final prognosis… no brain activity at all, I knew in my heart that he had been taken from me to be in a better place. I had a lot of time to consider what the real options really were, and knew that what remained of my son resided only in my heart and memory.

The day before all of this Joshua and I had been singing his favorite song he’d learned all the words to, Phil Collins, Another day in paradise, over and over in the car, then strolling through the mall, throwing fistfuls of coins in the wishing well fountain thing, just doing the things a father and son do. Since that day I have never listened to that song for more than the first few bars, I just can’t bear the load it carries.

When the time came I had to reach down deep into my soul to sign the order to terminate life support. God had taken him from me, the best reason I can come up with was that he was saving him from future harm and had better plans for him. I was numb for months, then one day everything turned into pure rage. Not at God, but at those responsible. The assholes that with whom Joshua’s care had been entrusted, the pure audacity that they dared raise a hand to my son and who took him from me. He was incarcerated, but not in my facility, instead the county lock up, where they thought he would be safe… afraid not, I was under orders to stay away and await his trial. But that didn’t mean I could not make sure that word was quickly spread to whichever facility he was housed in of why he was there. Relocated to different facilities very frequently.

Jump ahead many months, a trial I was not permitted to attend, short of a brief testimony, bullshit lawyering bastards went from Murder 1 to felony child abuse, sentenced to three years in Ft. Leavenworth. Almost all of which I’m assured was in protective custody. More of my doing you might ask…. I didn’t have to, it was done on my behalf. What would become of the cheating bitch… someone withdrew her immigration papers and she was deported.

Since then I have lived with this burden, was it my fault, not entirely, but I played a hand in it as I enabled it to happen by not keeping him with me, so now it is mine to carry. And I do, some days it’s heavier than others, but I will continue to do so until we are again re-united.

About 7 years ago I remarried to my beautiful wife, whom I renamed Angel, she is the only one that I confided with all the details I can remember, and tolerates my rapid mood swings into deep depression as every Sept. 12 and May 11 rolls around. I’m sorry for the pain it causes her, as she does her best to make this day special for me every year, hell she makes every day special for me.

As I sit here typing this out, alone locked in my basement office I can shed a tear, this year I needed to let it out a bit more, I should’ve been attending his high school graduation next month.

I pray each day that nobody else has to make the decision that I did so long ago now, even though I know that somewhere someone is having to.

But I have a beautiful daughter to live for now and to see her walk across that stage in a just few years will be a milestone. I owe her and her Mom my life, I really have my doubts as to whether or not I would be here today if it were not for them by my side. So now it’s time to shuffle through the few remaining pictures I have, a few memories, pack them up in my head for later, then try to put on a happy face and go back up and face the world. I know they have gone to extraordinary lengths to build a wonderful day for me yet again, for that I am grateful.

I owe my life to them both, and live it for them.
Joshua rest well my son.