Father loses veteran son to suicide

By Curt Swarm

Ron Buckingham of rural Mt. Pleasant took the call from his son, Steve, of Eureka, Calif. “Dad,” his son said, “I just want to let you know that you’ve been a better father than most. What I’m about to do is no reflection on you.”

“Steve,” Ron pleaded. “Get help!”

Steve hung up.

A couple of hours later, the coroner called. Steve had killed himself by gunshot. He was 38. He left behind a wife and two daughters.

Steve and his sister grew up in Eureka, Calif., with their mother who was divorced from Ron. Steve was a happy-go-lucky kid, well-liked and smart. When he was a senior in high school he bought a 90′s something Mustang GT and proceeded to build it into a muscle car. Upon graduation from high school, he went immediately into the Navy. While in boot camp at Great Lakes, Ill., the Company Commander, wanting to challenge Steve, talked him into becoming a Medical Corpsman.

Steve asked his father what he thought of the idea. Ron told him that it sounded like the opportunity of a lifetime. Little did Ron know that his son would be assigned to a Marine Company in Iraq. Steve worked in a portable hospital that was three semis hooked together and moved around Iraq. He said very little to his dad about his duty as a Medical Corpsman, but what he did say was painful. “We had to start working on soldiers before the anesthetic took effect, and just let’m scream. The helicopters brought in four-or-five at a time, all needing attention at once.”

Steve also helped out with a couple of tsunamis and an earthquake. With a tsunami, he was on the third floor of a hotel. “Dad, we looked out at the carnage and saw nothing but wandering animals, every conceivable animal you can think of. In one direction there was a chicken, a cow, in another direction a dog, animals roaming everywhere.”

They say once you leave boot camp you’ll never be back. After he was discharged from the Navy, Steve was asked to go back to Great Lakes, Ill., and help with training Medical Corpsmen. Then an opening came up with the Veteran’s Administration in Eureka, California and, since that was where he went to high school and had a lot of friends, he went back to his hometown. He worked with veterans in a Veteran Clinic. His friends said he had a knack for defusing disgruntled veterans. There are a lot of homeless veterans who live in the mountains around Eureka. The temperature is so mild they can live in tents 12 months of the year and be comfortable.

For Steve’s funeral, Ron was asked if he’d like a 21-gun salute. Ron said, “You want my honest opinion? There have been too many guns already.” They honored Ron’s wish. There were taps and the folding and presentation of the flag.

Steve’s mother-in-law called Ron once and talked about how people still missed Steve. He was a person that a lot of people liked, because he would do anything for anyone. Ron, now age 68, found help for himself in a grief support group through his church.

Ron lives alone and is a truck driver for West Liberty Foods. He had a heart attack on February 14 (heart day) this year and had bypass surgery.

Ron has Steve’s Mustang GT here in Iowa. It’s stored in a trailer. Ron goes out once in a while, opens the trailer, and rubs his hand along the smooth lines of the Mustang’s sleek fenders, like petting a cat. He starts the Mustang up and feels the rumble vibrate through the trailer. It reminds him of Steve. Ron doesn’t know what he will do with the Mustang, but he can’t part with it.

The hot line for suicide prevention is 988, call or text.

Contact Curt Swarm at curtswarm@yahoo.com