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 For Jim Frazier, however, Memorial Day has a much
deeper meaning, one closer to what its founders intended. Jim
Frazier is a Gold Star father. His son Jacob was killed in action
while serving with a Special Forces ‘A’ Team in Afghanistan on March
9, 2003.
Jim is intensely proud of his son, and of his service to this
country. He vividly remembers their last face-to-face conversation
when Jake dropped by the house to say goodbye in January 2003. Jake
was sitting in his car, ready to depart for Peoria to catch his
flight overseas when he told his father, “I want to go hunt down and
catch the people responsible for killing three thousand of our
citizens.”
That comment surprised and deeply impressed Jim. “I’m like, wow!
Holy cow,” he recalls.
Jim, a Marine from the Vietnam era, then felt compelled to offer up
some fatherly advice. “Being the thick-headed old Marine that I am,
I said, hey, a couple of things, pal. Keep your weapon clean, cover
your buddies’ backs, always have good socks, and keep your head
down. I want you to come home safe.”
Then came the comment that Jim will never forget. “Okay, Pops, I
will,” Jake said, “but if I don’t, I’ll see you on the other side.”
In recounting the story, Jim repeated that phrase. “‘I’ll see you on
the other side’ – I’ll never forget that,” he said.
There were a lot of emails and phone calls over the next couple of
months. Jake enjoyed telling his dad about what he was doing, about
being the new guy on the team. “I love this job,” Jake once said in
a matter-of-fact way.
“He loved who he was with, the fact that he was with those ALPHA
teams, the Special Forces teams,” Jim said.
Then came the fateful day when Jim received a phone call at 9:15
a.m. from an Air Force officer informing him that Jake had been
wounded. For the next several hours Jim scoured the internet and
checked the news channels to find out more information, slowly
collecting facts that led him to conclude the worst – Jake had been
killed. By the time his fears were confirmed, the whole family had
gathered. The next few days were a blur, a very painful blur.
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Jim took some comfort when three of Jake’s teammates
came to visit the family after they returned to the states. Jim
cherished his time with them, learning how they embraced Jake into
their brotherhood.
“They trusted him with their lives, like he trusted
his life to them,” Jim said during an interview with the Oral
History Program at the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and
Museum. “To hear them talk about his professionalism and his
eagerness. They all said the same thing. They said he was eager to
learn anything we would teach him. … He wanted to do more and more
and more. He loved that. That was his thing. That warms your heart.
I could see, hear and feel sincerity coming from them.”
In the months following Jake’s death, Jim attended several funerals
for other Illinoisans killed in combat, often meeting Lt. Governor
Pat Quinn there as well. For the next few years, he went through a
very dark time in his own life, a deep funk from which he did not
emerge until 2009.
Since then, Jim has worked with other Gold Star families. He finds
great satisfaction in helping others cope with their own loss and
pain. He’s been there. He knows their pain. He understands their
deep-seated need to talk about their son or daughter.
“I’m able to help people every day, and I’m with the people that I
care about,” said Jim, who is now the northern Illinois coordinator
for Survivor Outreach Services. “I’m with survivors.”
His work will never bring his son back, but he knows Jake would
appreciate what he is doing. Finally, he is comforted by the
knowledge that someday he’ll meet Jake again “on the other side.”
[DePue is the Director of Oral
History at the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum. You
can listen to Jim’s entire story at
www.oralhistory.illinois.gov.]
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