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Dear Mr. (Tommy Gunn),
My name is Tammy (ZZZZZZZ) and I live in Alabama. I read your article on the crosses and I just had to respond. I am blessed because even through a tragic loss I can find beauty.
For families who lose loved ones because of vehicle accidents, the spot where they died becomes a priceless piece of ground. You put a cross there in the hope that your loved one will not be forgotten. I want to share a story with you about my son, a Fort Polk Soldier named Pfc. Brian Thomas (ZZZZZZZ). Pfc. (ZZZZZZZ) wanted to become a military police officer more than anything else in life, so he joined the U.S. Army to make his dream come true. Brian turned 20 while in training and when he graduated, he said it was the happiest day of his life.
In March of 2000, Brian was sent to Fort Polk. Two months later he was in Haiti but had to return because of some wisdom teeth problems. We went to Fort Polk to visit him. Little did we know that the day we left would be the last day we'd see him alive. Within the next week he would be killed in an automobile accident on post.
Brian and I had a special way of saying goodbye to each other. It didn't matter who was watching -- he always let me put my ear to his chest to listen to his heart beat and kiss his cheek. Little did I know that would be the last time I heard his heart beat, the last time my lips touched his face.
On Aug. 8, I talked to Brian. I rushed him off the phone because I was worried about him having a high phone bill. Before daybreak on Aug. 9, Pfc. (ZZZZZZZ) would be in heaven after a terrible car accident.
I would never see that beautiful young man's smile again. His young, strong body would never give those bear hugs again. All I could do at his funeral was wrap my arms around his cold casket hoping he could somehow feel my love for him.
After the funeral, we went to the crash site and placed a white wooden cross and flags to honor and respect the memory of our son.
On the second anniversary of Brian's death, I visited Fort Polk and went to the crash site. At 3:30 a.m., I lay down on the spot of ground where he took his last breath. I reached out my hand and thought, “Mama could not be here for you then. It was out of my hands. But I am here now.” Now, more than six years later, questions cross our minds all the time about that little white cross on that priceless little spot of ground. Life moves on, people come and go, and as years pass by, does anyone care about that little white cross that stands alone on the side of Mill Creek Road? When bad weather comes, will that little cross remain standing? I am telling you all of this because of your article wondering about other white crosses on the side of the road. And the main reason for this letter is that I am speaking from a mother's heart. I am the proud mother of Pfc. Brian Thomas (ZZZZZZZ). And now, if you ever come across that little white cross, you now its story and the love that placed it there.
I am thankful and blessed to be able to tell you about this cross. Thank you for taking the time to read this letter.
God bless,
Tammy (ZZZZZZZ)

We got her permission to republish her letter. I don't really like a lot of attention (pffft! Okay that cracked me up too but that's not why I'm posting this, seriously.) In fact I debated myself a long time before deciding to do it. It's just that her letter touched my heart. I have Z'd out the names so they won't be Googled.
The reason I am posting it is because I've given Christmas a lot of grief lately. I don't really hate Christmas, per se. I LOVE the music. I love the spirit of the holiday. What I hate is the commercialization of Christmas. It seems like that's what it's all about anymore. Who can get the biggest, most expensive gift for whom. What store can make the most over the holidays by being the first to open. Who can be the first Christmas shopper to line up and be prepared to trample an old lady or brawl with a kid for the privledge of saving $10 on a fucking VCR. Pah! To hell with the lot of them.
What Christmas is to me, is a mother reading something that touched her heart and taking the time to sit down and compose a two page letter telling someone she was affected in a positive way. Sharing her story. It comes from deep within us, not a fucking 50% off sale at Wal-Mart or Target. So what do you say? Instead of buying someone something bigger and better this year, can we give something from the heart instead. Maybe, just maybe if we try hard enough, we'll revive the spirit and take Christmas back from Madison Avenue and Wall Street.
I know what you're thinking. I hear ya plain as day! "Who the fuck are you, Tommy, to tell me how to celebrate Christmas?" and you're right. Who the fuck am I? I'm just a grinch who had his heart touched by a woman he never met and probably never will but now has a connection with anyway. A woman who showed me that, sometimes? Sometimes things we do really do matter to someone besides ourselves. So let's pause for a brief second and remember the real reason for the season. I will if you will ... I promise. Merry Christmas ya'll.