Phyllis McGeath dances with her son, Cpl. Philip McGeath, at his wedding to Sarah in 2010. Philip was deployed to Afghanistan in Jan. 2012 when he was killed by a suicide bomber. Phyllis and her family relied on their close family bonds to get them through the loss. (Photo courtesy of Phyllis McGeath)
Circling the Wagons
I know what it means to be a Marine mom. I’ve been one since 2008 when my oldest son, Philip, enlisted. Since then, two more of my seven children have become Marines. But this past January, every Marine mom’s nightmare became my reality – I lost a child. On Jan. 18, 2012 my oldest son Philip was killed by a suicide bomber in Afghanistan. My life changed forever.
My husband, David, is retired Air Force, but our boys were exposed to the Marine Corps while we were stationed in Okinawa, Japan. Philip was about ten and thought the Marines were ‘all that.’
David and I tried to encourage all our children to go to college, but Philip had a different calling. He left behind three completed years of college to embrace the life of a Marine infantryman in 2008. A year later, his younger brother Kenneth joined, followed by Allen in 2011.
By that time I was a Marine mom expert. I had such pride in my boys and learned more about the Marine Corps with each one. Pretty soon, I was giving other moms advice on what to do, what not to do, and what to expect.
Although I worried about my boys, I talked to them on the phone and communicated with them on Facebook as much as I could. Then in July 2011, Philip deployed to Afghanistan with 1st Battalion, 6th Marine Regiment. My experiences as a Marine mom were being stretched to new levels.
Being away from Philip wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was focusing on him, but not forgetting I had six other kids and two other Marines to take care of. I still had three sons in the house, the youngest only seven years old.
Cpl. Philip McGeath with his wife Sarah at their wedding in 2010. Philip and Sarah planned on raising a family together and Philip already had baby names picked out prior to his death by a suicide bomber in Afghanistan Jan. 2012.
Philip also left behind his wife of less than two years, Sarah. While Philip was deployed, he would call whenever he could, or he would call Sarah and we would swap information.
The last phone call I had with Philip was on Christmas Day. He called to wish us a merry Christmas. All of our boys who were home had the chance to talk to him, too. It was so great to hear his voice. He sounded upbeat and self-assured. He loved what he was doing, but he was ready to come home. He and Sarah were ready to start a family. Philip even had baby names picked out. His homecoming in a month couldn’t come any sooner.
But his homecoming did come sooner. Just not in the way I had imagined it.
The day we found out about Philip’s death started out like any other day. I went out to lunch with some friends before going to work at the airport. While at work, another employee told me that the supervisor needed to see me at B terminal on the other side of the airport.
Immediately, I thought I was in trouble and spent the whole train ride, wondering if I’d missed something in the international security checks.
When I got off the train, I saw some men in military uniforms and for a moment thought all of my Marines had come home at the same time to surprise me. All three hadn’t been home at the same time in four years. But when my supervisor guided me out of the secure area of the airport, I realized it was just my imagination running away with me.
Cpl. Philip McGeath entered boot camp Nov. 2008. McGeath was an infantryman and left for his first deployment to Afghanistan July 2011. McGeath was killed by a suicide bomber just a few weeks shy of his return. (Photo courtesy of Phyllis McGeath)
My supervisor led me outside where two policemen were standing. I leapt back to my former conclusion that I was in trouble, but my supervisor said there were some gentlemen who needed to speak to me. That’s when I saw the Marines. Beside them was my husband.
Instantly I knew. I had been in a military family for a long time. I knew.
All I could manage to ask was, ‘who?’ When David told me it was Philip, I was stunned.
As a parent, you never expect your kids to die before you. Especially not kids like Philip. He loved so much and was loved so much that you couldn’t for a minute think he could be gone. He gave life his all. Everything about him was more than average. He loved his family, he loved his wife, and he loved the Corps. He had always been such a great example for my younger boys to follow. I didn’t have a conversation with him where he didn’t ask me to tell the boys he said hi.
Now I had to go home and tell my three younger boys that Philip was gone.
It’s been over a month now since we got the news and every day is a struggle. I’ve had to put on a brave face because I’m still a mom: to my younger boys, to my daughter and to my Marines. It’s my job to take care of everything. But slowly I’ve realized that I can’t fix this.
Keeping his memory alive has become what keeps me holding on as well. I was surprised that so many people believe the war is over just because all the troops are out of Iraq. There are still men and women fighting and dying for our country in Afghanistan. I believe it is my job to speak out about Philip and his life because he’s so much more than a line in the newspaper.
I know Philip would want me to stop crying and move on. He’d want me to take care of his brothers since he can’t anymore. And he’d want me to look after Sarah. So, that’s what I’ll do.
As the mother of seven children, people used to ask me how the ‘troops’ were, referencing our kids. Our family is so tight-knit that we joked when trouble found us; we would just circle our wagons like groups travelling west would do to protect themselves.
Now, as we cope with Philip’s death, it will be no different.
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