MARINE FORCES RESERVE, New Orleans -- “can’t stop crying”
“All I can remember is that silly red mohawk he had that almost looked pink.”
“LOVE IS AN UNDERSTATEMENT! RIP JERMS”
Hilarious and heartbreaking at once, the stories and comments posted on the memorial Facebook fan page of 2nd Lt. Jeremiah “Jerms” McGraw weave together the spirit of a fallen Marine as it was seen through the eyes of those that loved him.
McGraw, recently posthumously commissioned, was killed 7 months ago when his parachute failed to open during a training jump with his unit, 4th Air-Naval Gunfire Liaison Company out of West Palm Beach, Fla.
He left behind his wife along with a lengthy roster of friends and relatives who carry fond, often grateful memories of the reserve mechanic – memories the McGraw family is working to collect as they pop up on a fan page operated by Jeremiah’s brother and father.
Digital memories
“The thing that stuck out more than anything is how much of an impact that he seems to have made in peoples lives,” said Jeremiah’s father, Tim. “So much so that they keep on coming back and saying things to that effect months after his death.”
Even though Jeremiah and his two brothers never attended a day of public school kindergarten through 12th grade, most people in their community knew who “the McGraw Brothers,” were, said Tim. A testament to his popularity in life, Jeremiah’s fan page now has close to 700 members. Each one has their own personal history with “Jerms.”
“It still amazes me how three home-schooled boys managed to know almost everyone in Palm Beach County,” wrote Sarah Wilson, who knew Jeremiah from work and church.
She posted a story about the night Jeremiah managed to put a smile on her face while driving her to a friend’s house after she had a bad day on the job at the China Hut restaurant in Boynton Beach, Fla.
He played “She’s Got A Girlfriend Now,” by popular ska-punk group Reel Big Fish on the car’s stereo, rolled down the windows and sang his heart out into the night air.
“It wasn't long till he had me laughing,” she wrote in her post. “To be honest, up until 9/11/09, every time I heard that song, I couldn't help but smile, crank up the stereo, roll down my windows and sing along badly as drivers stared at me at the red lights.”
Sept. 11, 2009 was the day she heard the news about Jeremiah. She had put the song on a mixed CD some months before Jeremiah’s death because of the warm memories it used to bring up. Now, she struggles to hold back tears whenever she hears it.
Intermixed with Wilson’s written memories are those of dozens more.
One user recalls the time Jeremiah comforted her in the midst of a failing relationship with kind words, a patient ear and a kiss to the forehead.
Another remembers a nervous waiter that had him and Jeremiah pay their bill mid-meal as they ate snow crab after snow crab without signs of slowing at a supposedly “all-you-can-eat” Boynton Beach buffet.
“He always use to put me to shame on the amount of plates he can shovel down that black hole of a stomach,” wrote Eric Wilson, who worked with Jeremiah for years, “Let’s just say I don’t think I can ever eat snow crabs again.”
A ‘proactive’ approach to friendship
Jeremiah’s father said he was surprised by the sheer number of people who joined the fan page and decided to contribute. Still, he added, he always knew his boys were different.
“They were taught to serve others from the day they were old enough to walk,” he said. “If someone says they have a need and you have the ability to fill that need you help that person,” he would tell them.
This “proactive” approach to cultivating friendships was the driving force behind the way Jeremiah’s life, and ultimately his death, affected people, Tim surmised.
Six months after Jeremiah’s death over a dozen of his friends spontaneously visited his grave in cheerful remembrance, inviting his family to join them.
Scores more are already planning a similar ceremony when the anniversary of his death comes around.
Therapy through social networking
Lance Cpl. Josh McGraw, an Arabic linguist with the 1st Radio Battalion aboard Camp Pendleton, initially set up the page as a way to spread the details of his brother’s funeral to friends and family.
The idea of the page collecting stories about Jeremiah was born at the actual service.
After about 15 minutes of formal, written proceedings friends and family spent the next hour of the funeral talking about the time they spent with Jeremiah.
“We basically went open mic,” recalled Josh, “We had everyone from his drunken poker buddies to his father in law throwing out stories and anecdotes.”
The posts have slowed since the page first went up, but the McGraw family has kept making regular updates – videos from his commissioning ceremony, his posthumous college graduation, the Commandant’s letter of praise.
As the updates continue so does the discussion. His friends and family, said Josh, are still getting to know Jeremiah.
For instance, Josh never knew about the time his brother returned a litter bug’s fast food cup at an intersection as onlookers applauded until he read his father’s post about the event.
The sharing, said Josh, has fostered healing.
“It lets people come together and just continue the process,” he said. “It’s been over seven months now but nobody’s really over it.”
Even Jeremiah, long buried, offered his own two cents in the form of a letter he wrote to his parents before he enlisted.
When he first started talking about joining the Marines his mother was wrought with worry, said Tim.
“Put down what’s in your heart on paper and maybe we can use that as a way to communicate,” he told his son, who then wrote to his parents explaining why he was so determined to enlist. Tim later posted the letter on Jeremiah’s fan page.
“I feel that the only reason we have the freedoms we do today, is because brave people in history were willing to step outside of their comfort zone, and put themselves at risk for a greater good,” Jeremiah wrote. “I know there will be risks.”