“The sun shows no mercy this morning. I’m staring thin-eyed as the rolling ground comes to a halt. A heart once close has stopped beating. But its memory lives forever and your blurry eyes will make some sense of this. You will always be remembered, you will be celebrated. You will never be forgotten, these tears still haven’t faded.” ~The Flatliners, Eulogy
With Memorial Day weekend winding down, I thought I would share a few words on one of my favorite people, who also happened to be U.S. Army Captain Thomas Casey McCausland. I have lots of family members who have served and some who gave their lives. However, they were gone before I was born or I didn’t know them. Casey was my friend, and he kicked ass.
I first met Casey in high school. He transferred from another school, and I will never forget the first time I saw him in the halls. He was already friends with some of my buds, so I was quickly introduced to him. He walked down our Catholic school hallway in our required uniform of solid shirts with khaki pants…with combat boots on. We were all in to ska and punk, so sometimes he would wear suspenders and a tie. He was the best. One of the first things I knew about Casey from Casey was that he was going to be a soldier in the U.S. Army. Period. End of story. I knew he would do great things. And he did.
Casey served in both Iraq and in Afghanistan. His team was under constant fire in Afghanistan. While driving, his vehicle was hit by an I.E.D. His driver died, and his interpreter lost his legs. I can’t even imagine the trauma. My brain shuts down trying to even process the things he heard, saw, smelled and experienced. Casey medically retired from the Army in 2008. I know he felt lost at that time. Perhaps he never fully recovered in finding his purpose. When we spoke upon his return from Afghanistan, all he could talk about was the kids he encountered. He wanted to help them. He would repeat, “The kids…those kids.” All I could say is, “I know, Case. You gave them your best. You did everything in your power for them.” I’m not sure if he agreed. I hope he knows that now. He suffered from PTSD, and we lost Casey on November 1, 2013. I think about him almost every day. When I think of him, I think of the following stories:
- Once Casey was driving me from and to another party. We were driving down a long stretch of road when the Whitesnake song “Here I Go Again” came on the radio. We both looked at each other, rolled down the windows without a word and starting screaming it at the top of our lungs. Casey was pumping his fist out the window with a lit cigarette. We could not stop laughing when it was over, and I even called the radio station and begged them to play it again. I heard that song every single day on the radio either to or from work for three months up in Chicagoland after he passed.
- Some of our friends were in a ska punk band and often played this dive venue called the Creepy Crawl (the original location). He decided that on their last show he should blow fire. He did, and I am pretty sure he almost lit himself and the ceiling on fire being that he was about 1-2 feet below it.
- Casey came to many of my volleyball games with our other guy friends, including when we went to playoffs and off to state. He said it was to support us. I’m pretty sure that was true, but he also admitted later it was because of the uniforms…
- He had a very serious skydiving training accident in the Army. It should have killed him. He was left with some hardware in his pelvis. He called me after and said, “You know what this means, right? I’m fucking invincible. I told my Officer that. I think he thinks I’m fucking insane!”
- Casey was one of my most favorite people to hang with at a party. He liked to joke around, laugh, listen to good music and get hammered with me. Once he and another buddy of ours had way too much whiskey. They were both off in the yard taking turns puking. At one point they were both laying down on their stomachs. When our buddy was puking, Casey would army crawl over and pat his back. It was gross and adorable.
This is how I remember my old bud. Smiles and acts of kindness. It sums up his big heart. It may be the only thing larger than his smile.
I want to share a poem Casey wrote about his time overseas. It shows the good he hoped to do for his country and how the horrors of war still haunts you when your duty is over. It was on the prayer card at his funeral. I’m so glad his family shared this with us. I love you and miss you, Case. Pour one out for your homies tonight friends:
To do good we went out one day
We went to talk, we went to see
We were warned, but we continued on
To clean up another’s mess
To do good we went out one day
And we learned, and we talked, and we left
As a result, we felt the fire
We felt the burn from the ground It came from everywhere, but
To do good we went out one day
The good went away and the bad came 1,2,3, down
And ours went against theirs
And we fought, sweat and blood
The smell of death
To do good we went out one day
And when we came back what was left
A hole, a void that cannot be filled
Forever changed, never forgetting
Living it over and over I close my eyes
Wondering, did we do good when we went out that day?