Bryan Burgess (center) was killed in action during his final 2011 deployment to Afghanistan just 16 days before he was scheduled to return home — a few weeks shy of his 30th birthday. His parents Terry and Beth created Gold Star Parents retreat and network in his honor.
Grieving Bryan, their son who gave all, Texas parents Terry and Beth Burgess found hope by creating supports for fellow Gold Star families
When Bryan Burgess was seven years old, he and his father Terry visited a friend’s house, where the family was having an Easter egg hunt. Asked to join the fun, Bryan won handily, earning the day’s prize — a great big, cellophane-wrapped Easter basket full of foil-wrapped chocolates, toys, and other sweet treasures.
From a young age Bryan showed a special manner of caring for others.
“Some of the other moms were clearly upset because we weren’t family, you know, we were just visiting,” says Terry. “But before anybody could say anything, Bryan unwrapped the basket and stepped back from it. He said ‘dig in!’ and he let all those other kids and the moms take all the candy they wanted before he took a single piece.”
It’s one of Terry favorite stories to tell about his son, because he says, “it’s when I knew that he had a very special spirit.”
Bryan’s manner of caring for others continued, according to his stepmother Beth. “He was always very protective and security conscious,” she says. He wanted to be a policeman and would remind his dad to fasten his seatbelt in the car.
At 22, Bryan enlisted in the Army, determined to become infantry in the wake of 9/11. “As soon as he signed up, we knew that he would almost immediately go to war. And sure enough, he did,” said Terry. Bryan’s commitment had already been made when they were told. “All we could do was support him in his decision.”
Bryan loved his new military career. He served two tours in Iraq, met and married his wife Tiffany, and they had two children, Makya and Zander. He was killed in action during his final 2011 deployment to Afghanistan just 16 days before he was scheduled to return home — a few weeks shy of his 30th birthday.
The wait for answers
Upon learning the devastating news about Bryan’s death, the Burgess family was given little information about what happened. “It was frustrating,” says Terry. He and Beth, along with all of Bryan’s other close family members, traveled to Dover Air Force Base, where the bodies of the fallen are brought back to U.S. soil for the solemn tradition of the “dignified transfer.” There, they met five other families, each of whom had lost a solider in the same mission where Bryan was killed, all of whom knew very little about the circumstances.
At 22, Bryan enlisted in the Army, determined to become infantry in the wake of 9/11.
“We were all thrown together at the worst possible time and each of us was trying to piece things together,” Beth said. But the process created connections that they could lean on for years. “We had an almost immediate support system.”
Bryan’s wife decided to postpone his funeral until the rest of his unit returned from Afghanistan, widening the circle of people Beth and Terry could connect with over their loss. As they began to piece together the story, they learned that answers would be so slow to come, in part, because Bryan had been killed on day one of a nine-day classified mission.
They bonded with three of the families from Bryan’s unit — others who would receive the deeply painful honor of receiving the Gold Star pin that signifies losing a loved one in service. They remain in contact to this day. Bryan’s spirit loomed so large that four men from his unit have named a son after him.
The Gold Star parent “grief calendar”
Bryan with his wife Tiffany.
According to Beth and Terry, the number of dates that cause spiraling grief is exponential: Bryan’s birthday, the date he was killed in action, the dignified transfer, the date he was supposed to return home alive, and the last day they spent together when he was home on leave. Bryan’s final deployment began on Mother’s Day of 2010, permanently changing the meaning of that holiday. “It’s an ongoing grief calendar, all year long,” says Terry.
“We have many ways to honor and remember Bryan on Memorial Day, the Fourth of July, and Veteran’s Day, but they tend to be painful holidays,” Beth said. “It’s hard, because everyone’s very patriotic, and you know what that really costs.”
When someone says “Happy Memorial Day,” it hurts, Terry said. “For us, it’s not a three-day holiday. It’s not barbecues and mattress sales.”
The Gold Star parent network
Beth and Terry discovered new purpose in supporting a network of Gold Star parents. But they found that the label is often restricted to combat-related deaths. They wanted to change that, and give every parent who had a child die while in service to the country a way to connect and help each other.
In 2017, they established a non-profit called Gold Star Parents Retreat, It is an annual, free retreat held in Gainesville, Texas for parents who have lost a child serving in any branch of the military, under any circumstance, including training or car accidents, complications from vaccinations before being deployed, and suicide.
“We bring them together to just connect with each other, talk to each other. We may now know what they went through,” Beth said. “We don’t try to fix,” Terry adds.
“We want to give them just a tiny bit of hope,” says Beth. “You’ll never get over it, but you’ll learn how to carry it. I guess you get better at carrying it. You’re not alone — there are lots of us out here who will help you carry it.”
Read the second post in this series: “He Wants Me to Salute Him Back” — how a documentary film featuring the firefight with the Taliban that took Bryan’s life led his father Terry to strengthen support for grieving Gold Star fathers.
“Don’t Lean Into The Brokeness,” Joyal Mulheron, The Huffington Post, July 19, 2017.
Child death ‘more common’ than many realize, hits black Americans disproportionately
The connections we form with our family and friends benefit our mental health, physical health and longevity in countless ways.
So, it’s no surprise that the loss of those close relationships, particularly through death, can be devastating. In fact, research identifies the death of a significant other as one of the most stressful life events a person can experience and one with lasting effects on health. When the loved one who dies is a child, it has especially powerful consequences.
Relationships with children affect the health and well-being of parents, who expect to precede their children in death, throughout their lives. When children are dependent on parents, parents feel a sense of responsibility to keep their kids safe.
For parents, especially, the death of a child is a traumatic life event, and it’s more common than most Americans realize. Here at the University of Texas-Austin’s Population Research Center, our research shows that by the age of 50 about eight percent of Americans have a child who has died. And it’s even more common for older parents. By age 80, almost one in five parents has lost a child.
And when we look further into our research, we find that black Americans, in particular, are even more likely to experience the death of a child. Throughout their lives, black Americans lose more family members than white Americans. By age 60, black parents are twice as likely as white parents to have lost a child. And by age 70, they are about three and a half times more likely to have a child die.
Although black Americans lose more family members than white Americans throughout their lives, surprisingly little information is available about the long-term health consequences of race differences after a family member has died.
Documenting the consequences
Through our research, the primary goal is to document the extensive health consequences after a child’s death. We use several datasets to examine the outcomes for younger and older parents when a child dies and find that the death of a child is associated with numerous health risks for parents over the years.
Losing a child, for example, puts parents at increased risk of cardiovascular disease, physical disability, dementia and death. The loss of a child also increases risk factors that undermine health, including risky health behaviors, such as smoking, and poor mental health, such as depression.
Although black and white parents are similarly affected by the death of a child, racial inequality and disadvantage is striking for black parents for two primary reasons. Black parents are substantially more likely than white parents to lose a child during their lifetime. And, when compared to white parents, they are more likely to face inadequate access to health providers and other resources and poor health outcomes even before the loss of a child. The death of a child adds to their already higher risk of poor health.
More work to do
Research clearly shows that the loss of a child marks a turning point in a person’s life, one that could launch them toward a cascade of health problems. But there are ways to help them early on in their grief. Our findings underscore the importance of identifying parents who have lost a child and building early intervention strategies to reduce long-term consequences for parents.
Mulheron left her career to immerse herself in the science surrounding the fallout of losing a child at any age or cause. She then started Evermore — a nonprofit to change the national response when a child dies.
Evermore organization will tackle why and how
More. Bereaved. Families.
Every day, news coverage reports the death of sons and daughters of all ages dying from an array of causes. And the coverage continues. Last week I, like many others, was thunderstruck by the news that Jeremy Richman, Sydney Aiello and Calvin Desir had died.
More. Bereaved. Families.
I know these families’ lives, like my own and many others, are forever divided into two categories:
Life Before and Life After.
But most of all, I have come to know unambiguously, that more could — and should — be done to help bereaved families in the United States.
Observing from the sidelines is no longer an option.
My own Life After started in 2010 after the death of my daughter. And, over time, as I watched the news that detailed the death of yet another child — from the Sandy Hook massacre and Aurora Theater shooting to the deaths of Trayvon Martin and Hadiya Pendleton — I had a very real sense of the heartache, injustices, and lifelong challenges these families would face. I was hit with the conviction that I must do something — even if I did not yet know what that might be.
I decided to leave the only career I had ever known and began to immerse myself in the science surrounding the implications of losing a child and the stories of those left behind.
Americans from all walks of life graciously and patiently shared with me how their lives were changed by one of life’s most tragic experiences. I have had the honor of learning from families, medical providers, members of law enforcement, therapists, researchers, employers, and many more.
And now’s the time to get off the bench to share what I’ve learned and launch a national conversation about child death, its implications, so we can address it for what it is:
a public health crisis.
To raise awareness, encourage funding and push for change, I founded Evermore — a nonprofit that recognizes that when a child dies, what happens next can make all the difference.
Personal Stories, Factual Analysis
We will use this platform as part of our campaign to de-stigmatize the issues bereaved parents face and advise practitioners, employers and others on what bereaved families need (and don’t need).
Evermore has a unique perspective to offer our nation, our communities and our families. We are able to not only share individual anecdotes, but also provide factual analysis informed by research and partnerships with leading scientists and policy experts.
You will see what we see, including how we, as Americans, can and do stand by our families, neighbors, and communities during tragedy.
In a time when our nation seems to be marked by division and dissent, this will be a place where families — and those who support them — can see hope, help and love. You will be able to learn from one another and find solace in sharing stories of slog and promise. This blog will also be a forum to highlight providers who work with families: those who bear the burden of telling parents and those who absorb our traumas. This blog will be authentic and genuine.
Together we can make the world a more livable place for bereaved families.
Evermore’s Ground Rules
There are a few key rules, however…
Every child counts. Whether young or old, before independent life has begun or as an octogenarian, every grieving parent and family deserves to be acknowledged, supported and offered the opportunity to cope with “us.” Whether felon or Park Avenue, we share a common humanity based upon the invisibility of our love, the uniqueness of our children, and how we brave the world without them.
Siblings count too. Siblings, young and old, are often forgotten. They, too, deserve to be acknowledged and supported for their loss.
Everyone has a role to play. Every community organization — public or private — has a role to play. From emergency responders to medical examiners, funeral homes to hospitals to employers. From grocers to recreational centers to caregivers and everyone in between, each institution can support families in their own ways. We hope all will join us in making this change.
We hope you will tune in regularly and give us feedback on the issues addressed and the personal stories covered. Too many people look away. Thank you for reading. We promise to do all we can to make it worth your time.
