My great uncle died in the Vietnam war. He was my paternal grandmother’s brother. My father has told stories about him and shared a few memories, and I could always tell that he was special to my Dad. My name was supposed to be Paul, but I was a girl so my brother named his first son Paul.
When I was 11, we took a trip to the Vietnam Memorial in Washington D.C. and I remember my Dad just standing there staring at his name. He touched it with his hand. It was a moment that I knew I should be silent for. My Mom took the white paper and made a shaded copy of his name to bring home and we left.
My Mom was playing on google the other day and she found a hit on Paul’s name in a book.
A bit of closure was found in the pages for my Dad. We finally know exactly how Platoon Sergeant Paul E. Jackson died serving his country.