(that flag drapped coffin contains a true hero) 
(the family left behind) ![1342583569_m[1]](http://xfa.xanga.com/900d261112c3786526966/z59635585.jpg) 
(that is the hero I speak of RIP in my friend) He gave his life for freedom AURORA -- Martha Lopez's sobs rang out over the three-volley salutes the Marines fired Monday for her 21-year-old son. "Baby, baby," she wailed as her family clutched her arms and supported her head. She approached the pale gray coffin draped in the American flag one last time, leaned her head on top and continued to weep. Baby, baby," she wailed as her family clutched her arms and supported her head. She approached the pale gray coffin draped in the American flag one last time, leaned her head on top and continued to weep. "I will miss you so much," she sobbed Outside St. Paul's Lutheran Cemetery, Agnes Rodriguez pressed up against the metal fence and cried along with the heartbroken mother. She didn't know Marine Lance Cpl. Edwardo Lopez, who was killed on Oct. 19 in al Anbar province of Iraq, but pulled out photographs from her purse of her own soldiers. Her 21-year-old granddaughter is stationed in Iraq, and her 19-year-old grandson will be there soon. "I get so scared when I see these things," she said. "It just breaks my heart." More than 200 people paid their respects Monday to the second Aurora Marine to be killed in Iraq. For many, it served as a stark reminder that the ongoing war still hits close to home. Walking with a cane, fellow 2003 East Aurora High School graduate Victor Rojas limped forward during the burial to place his hand on Lopez's coffin. A rocket-propelled grenade struck Rojas' Humvee last year in Iraq and shattered his leg, and the Army National Guardsman spent five weeks in a coma at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, D.C. At the cemetery, Rojas slowly knelt down in front of Martha Lopez and expressed his condolences to the grieving mother. She nodded her head and kissed his hand. "I can't describe (how I feel), I can't describe it," Rojas said after the funeral, his voice trembling. "Just seeing his mom, and her face. It brought back so many memories." The Rev. Alex Merlo, who officiated during a service at Iglesia Luterna San Pablo on Aurora's near East Side, said Lopez had asked his family to take him back home if something happened to him in combat so that he could return to the church where he was baptized, confirmed and played basketball with his cousins. "For all of us, he was a good friend, a good son, a good brother, a good Marine," Merlo said. Local dignitaries, including Aurora Mayor Tom Weisner and State Rep. Linda Chapa LaVia -- who went to school with Lopez's mother -- also attended the service. "I think it's important we not just see the person who gave his life for this country as a statistic," said Illinois Lt. Gov. Pat Quinn after the service. "Americans should look for ways to support the people on our front lines." Quinn has attended about 130 funerals, wakes and memorials on behalf of the state. He spoke during Lopez's service, calling him "a hero" that young people "can model their life after." "The family of Illinois grieves with the Lopez family today," Quinn said. "This fine young man, only 21 years old, gave his life for our freedom, for our democracy ... He loved his country more than himself." Quinn said he remembers Lopez and all the soldiers who have died in Iraq when he listens to the third verse of America the Beautiful. After Quinn's speech, a church cantor sang the verse: "O beautiful for heroes proved "In liberating strife, "Who more than self their country loved "And mercy more than life." A mother's wail, a bugle, another young soldier gone October 31, 2006 You had to be there. There, on Monday morning in the pews of beautiful Iglesia Luterana San Pablo church. You had to be there to see the flag-draped casket. To listen to the bagpipes and children's choir. Then later, to hear the wail of a grieving mother as her 21-year-old son was lowered into the ground. Edwardo Lopez died a Marine. But first, he was a mother's child. Martha Lopez's child. And her anguish, I am sure, would have seared your heart in ways it has not been touched in a long, long time. For most of us, the lingering war in Iraq has come down to little more than political sound-bites. We read the headlines and we listen to the TV news. We can even recite the statistics. One hundred soldiers killed this October alone. Total figures are up around 2,800, although most of us aren't keeping a close tab. Numbed by the numbers, we momentarily shake our heads when we hear of another death, then turn the page or click the mouse or flip the channel and go on to the latest greatest scandal or celebrity hyperbole that keeps us entertained and distracted. That's why you had to be there. You had to see the pain behind those statistics. Even more so, you had to feel it. Sitting in that church, sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows and falling on the rows of tearful mourners, reality hits pretty darn hard. Edwardo Lopez Jr. was a handsome young man with a loving family. With wonderful friends and a bright future. A son raised in faith, hope and love who chose to fight a war that is grounded in hate. His story is one of hundreds. Thousands. Sadly, his death is no longer unique. But his life was. And that is why you had to be there. At the cemetery, standing just a few feet from the casket, there were no distractions to the reality of war. It was all there -- as haunting as the music of those half-dozen bagpipes and a Marine's lone bugle. As jarring as the riflemen's three-volley salute. And rising above all these sounds ... a crescendo of maternal grief that is hard to turn away from. For a moment, I had to. Raising my eyes, I stared at the sky through the canopy of golden leaves that were dropping to earth like tears from heaven. For a moment, this reality seemed surreal -- and I wanted to keep my eyes lifted so I wouldn't have to feel the cruelness of this final good-bye. But I knew I would never forget these few hours -- nor do I want to. As the musical notes faded and the final amens were whispered, one by one Edwardo Lopez's loved ones stepped to the grave and tossed roses on his casket now resting in the ground. At one point, a young man turned to me and, unexpectedly, placed a long stem in my own hands. Taken by surprise, I accepted it. Then, feeling like an interloper, I tried to give it away not once, not twice but three times. Finally: "Why don't you go ahead and throw it," a young woman kindly told me as I offered it to her. "I'm from the newspaper," I replied. "I didn't even know Edwardo." Her brown eyes smiled behind tears. "That doesn't matter," she said. "Here, we are all family." And so, as the crowd began to dissipate, I inched my way closer to the grave and, looking down on the petals that rested atop a fallen hero, I tossed the rose into the air. "Thank you, Edwardo, from all the people who had to be here," I whispered. "Rest in peace." View from Aurora October 31, 2006 We all have heroes. For some it is an actor, or an athlete, or a politician, or a teacher, or a parent. For others, it is a fireman or a policeman. The merits of seeing these various types of people as heroes can be debated. For some of them, the hero status is obvious and well-deserved. For some, it is only superficial. For me, at this particular time, my hero is a soldier. I was saddened to read The Beacon News on the morning of October 21. As I picked up my paper off the driveway that morning, I was greeted with the news of the death of one of our own. Eduardo Lopez was killed in Iraq. Graduating from East High in 2003, Eduardo joined the Marines in 2004. He served his country in Afghanistan and most recently in Iraq. Regardless of what you think of the war, or the military, or the government, Eduardo Lopez should be remembered for who he was, and what he gave to America. The duty he felt, and the duty he carried out, made him a hero. I didn't know Eduardo, but I know many like him. I know a lot of East side kids, and a lot of Hispanic kids. He could just as easily have been one of them. According to the article, he was an affable young man, who was doing what he wanted to do. He wanted to serve his country. He wanted to do his part. He wanted to protect us. Just as I did not know Eduardo, I don't know his family. But I know families like them. I have seen their pain when they lose a son. I have prayed for them. I have embraced them. I have wept with them. I have two sons, two step-sons and a grandson. I cannot fathom what it would be like to lose any of them. I don't want to know. And I wish it on no one. So many people have negative views of Aurora, the East Side and Hispanics. Eduardo was a good reason not to paint with such a broad brush. He was a strong-willed young man pursuing his dream. He was doing what he loved. How many of us can truly say we got to do what we wanted to do in life? Not many, I'd wager. In that regard he was lucky. From Eddie's brother, Alex, we learn that, "Eddie was proud to wear the uniform, proud to serve his country. He always said he would rather die out there fighting for our freedom than on the street." Unfortunately, his words were prophetic. If Eduardo had died on the street, what would have been thought of him then? Would he just be written off as another Hispanic kid who threw his life away? Would anyone care? Would we read about it on the front page of the Beacon? The point is, he wasn't a waste. He was a son. He was a brother. He was a soldier. He was a hero. Rest in peace, Eduardo. You belong to all of us now. | 
