Mel
11-12-2010, 09:20 PM
One last time before dying, Larry Cornell, who survived combat in the Vietnam War, wanted to stand at the grave of his son, Army Sgt. Wayne Cornell, who was killed in combat in Iraq.
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The father is in hospice care in an Omaha nursing home, dying of cancer.
The son is buried at Parkview Cemetery in Hastings, 160 miles from Omaha.
The father doesn't know how long he has left to live. He has lived for many years with the effects of Agent Orange syndrome, related to the two tours of duty he served with the Army in Vietnam, said a daughter, JaDeen Hesman of Blue Hill, Neb.
About a year ago, Larry Cornell suffered a stroke. Then he was diagnosed with incurable cancer of the mouth. Though only in his early 60s, he has refused treatment of the cancer, his daughter said.
He spent most of his life after the war working as an electrician in Hastings and Fairmont, Neb. He recently moved into the Golden LivingCenter at 5505 Grover St. in Omaha.
Wayne R. Cornell was a fourth-generation American soldier. His great-grandfather, Charles Cornell, served in World War I. Both of his grandfathers, Richard Cornell and Marshall Christensen, served in World War II.
Wayne Cornell, whose parents were divorced, grew up in Holstein, Neb., with his mother, Patricia Perrie. Though it wasn't expected of him, he always wanted to be in the military or maybe a police officer, Hesman said.
He joined Nebraska's Army National Guard shortly after graduation from Silver Lake High School in Roseland, Neb.
During four years with the Guard, he served twice in Bosnia and once in Afghanistan. In 2006 he switched to the regular Army. He was deployed to Iraq early in 2007 with a Fort Riley, Kan.-based unit. He was killed March 20, 2007, when a roadside bomb exploded near his vehicle in Baghdad.
He left a wife, Patricia, and children Dameion, 5, and Zoie, 3.
Larry Cornell often visited his son's grave at Parkview Cemetery in Hastings.
“He would be very quiet,” Hesman said. “He would just stand there.”
Facing the end of his own life, he wanted to stand there again.
“He really wanted to come see my brother's grave one last time,” Hesman said. “He wanted to come on Veterans Day, not only because it's Veterans Day, but also because it's my mom's birthday.”
Golden LivingCenter and AseraCare hospice workers agreed to help make the trip happen. He needed someone medically qualified to administer morphine and care for his other needs, so a nurse from Comfort Keepers drove him on the 2½-hour trip to Hastings.
There they met JaDeen Hesman, Patricia Perrie and an uncle of Wayne Cornell's, Greg Christensen of Grand Island, who's also a Vietnam veteran.
Hesman had brought flowers, at her father's request. It was a big spray with a banner that said “Son.” She put the flowers on a stand beside her brother's grave, in a newer, flat part of the cemetery just north of the Hastings College Campus.
The sky was overcast. It was chilly. A breeze rustled the small flags that older women had placed on veterans' graves the days before. Cemetery workers watered young trees nearby.
It was midday. In the middle of Hastings, more than 200 people were gathered for speeches, music and prayers at a Veterans Day observance. It was at the City Auditorium, the scene of Wayne Cornell's funeral more than three years ago.
Larry Cornell sat in his wheelchair beside his son's grave. The family passed the time. They reminisced. They chatted about little things. They noted that a bottle of Bud Light, left by the grave by a buddy of Wayne, was finally gone after somehow surviving intact for two winters and two summers.
They didn't talk about the big things — how this was a lot of sacrifice for one family, how a lot of military families have made a lot of sacrifices, how much it had hurt to lose their son and brother, how little time the father has left.
“We kind of kept it lighthearted, just tried to enjoy the moment together,” Hesman said. “More than anything, that's what it was.”
After an hour or two, the father asked for a hand.
“Dad wanted to stand up by the grave,” Hesman said. “We helped him do that. He stood there for as long as he could, until he got shaky, and then we helped him sit down again. It had been a long time for him. He was ready to get his pain medicine and get in the car and go back.”
By nightfall, Cornell was back in Omaha. He told a nurse the trip had been “perfect.”
“It meant a lot to him,” his daughter said. “He doesn't talk about his feelings or that kind of stuff. But he was very appreciative. You could tell it meant a lot.”
http://www.omaha.com/article/20101112/NEWS01/711129891/1009#trip-to-son-s-grave-fulfills-wish
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The father is in hospice care in an Omaha nursing home, dying of cancer.
The son is buried at Parkview Cemetery in Hastings, 160 miles from Omaha.
The father doesn't know how long he has left to live. He has lived for many years with the effects of Agent Orange syndrome, related to the two tours of duty he served with the Army in Vietnam, said a daughter, JaDeen Hesman of Blue Hill, Neb.
About a year ago, Larry Cornell suffered a stroke. Then he was diagnosed with incurable cancer of the mouth. Though only in his early 60s, he has refused treatment of the cancer, his daughter said.
He spent most of his life after the war working as an electrician in Hastings and Fairmont, Neb. He recently moved into the Golden LivingCenter at 5505 Grover St. in Omaha.
Wayne R. Cornell was a fourth-generation American soldier. His great-grandfather, Charles Cornell, served in World War I. Both of his grandfathers, Richard Cornell and Marshall Christensen, served in World War II.
Wayne Cornell, whose parents were divorced, grew up in Holstein, Neb., with his mother, Patricia Perrie. Though it wasn't expected of him, he always wanted to be in the military or maybe a police officer, Hesman said.
He joined Nebraska's Army National Guard shortly after graduation from Silver Lake High School in Roseland, Neb.
During four years with the Guard, he served twice in Bosnia and once in Afghanistan. In 2006 he switched to the regular Army. He was deployed to Iraq early in 2007 with a Fort Riley, Kan.-based unit. He was killed March 20, 2007, when a roadside bomb exploded near his vehicle in Baghdad.
He left a wife, Patricia, and children Dameion, 5, and Zoie, 3.
Larry Cornell often visited his son's grave at Parkview Cemetery in Hastings.
“He would be very quiet,” Hesman said. “He would just stand there.”
Facing the end of his own life, he wanted to stand there again.
“He really wanted to come see my brother's grave one last time,” Hesman said. “He wanted to come on Veterans Day, not only because it's Veterans Day, but also because it's my mom's birthday.”
Golden LivingCenter and AseraCare hospice workers agreed to help make the trip happen. He needed someone medically qualified to administer morphine and care for his other needs, so a nurse from Comfort Keepers drove him on the 2½-hour trip to Hastings.
There they met JaDeen Hesman, Patricia Perrie and an uncle of Wayne Cornell's, Greg Christensen of Grand Island, who's also a Vietnam veteran.
Hesman had brought flowers, at her father's request. It was a big spray with a banner that said “Son.” She put the flowers on a stand beside her brother's grave, in a newer, flat part of the cemetery just north of the Hastings College Campus.
The sky was overcast. It was chilly. A breeze rustled the small flags that older women had placed on veterans' graves the days before. Cemetery workers watered young trees nearby.
It was midday. In the middle of Hastings, more than 200 people were gathered for speeches, music and prayers at a Veterans Day observance. It was at the City Auditorium, the scene of Wayne Cornell's funeral more than three years ago.
Larry Cornell sat in his wheelchair beside his son's grave. The family passed the time. They reminisced. They chatted about little things. They noted that a bottle of Bud Light, left by the grave by a buddy of Wayne, was finally gone after somehow surviving intact for two winters and two summers.
They didn't talk about the big things — how this was a lot of sacrifice for one family, how a lot of military families have made a lot of sacrifices, how much it had hurt to lose their son and brother, how little time the father has left.
“We kind of kept it lighthearted, just tried to enjoy the moment together,” Hesman said. “More than anything, that's what it was.”
After an hour or two, the father asked for a hand.
“Dad wanted to stand up by the grave,” Hesman said. “We helped him do that. He stood there for as long as he could, until he got shaky, and then we helped him sit down again. It had been a long time for him. He was ready to get his pain medicine and get in the car and go back.”
By nightfall, Cornell was back in Omaha. He told a nurse the trip had been “perfect.”
“It meant a lot to him,” his daughter said. “He doesn't talk about his feelings or that kind of stuff. But he was very appreciative. You could tell it meant a lot.”
http://www.omaha.com/article/20101112/NEWS01/711129891/1009#trip-to-son-s-grave-fulfills-wish