After everyone departed for Dover, it left me alone in our home. This was an important time for me, because I no longer had to keep-it-together for the sake of everyone else. Aaron was not only our son, but was our youngest son... he was a caring, loving boy, who was a true friend to so many people. He had integrity and lived his life with strength and honor. If he spoke words, or made a promise, you knew his word was his bond.
Having made all the phone calls that I could (most of the most important people that I tried to contact were away, celebrating Independence Day), sending the emails that also would not likely be received until they returned from familial 4th of July festivities, I was still frustrated about my inability to make the proper connections with people.
A few months prior to today, I had started an account on the social media site, Twitter. I thought this might be a good way to get updates to friends. I had not used Twitter much in the past, and thought this might be a good method to contact my friends who used Twitter regularly.
In that moment, I expressed myself using Twitter as a communication tool… unaware of the impact it might have and without forethought, I posted, “On Independence Day, a few hours ago, they killed my son, Aaron in Afghanistan.”
An undignified and emotional cry for (not only my friends but the world) to see.
Following my posting, I noticed a column to the right of the Twitter page sporting the headline, “Trending Topics,” that appeared to list all of the popular topics being discussed today on Twitter, I thought (and posted), “I'd like to see ‘Thank you, Aaron,’ show up on the Trending Topics for giving his life on Independence Day in Afghanistan.”
Immediately, I received a message from an individual who I did not know that expressed sorrow over our loss. It felt good to share the honor of Aaron’s sacrifice with someone.
As I started to receive messages from people I noticed it appeared to be common protocol for people to put “thankyouaaron” preceded by the pound sign on all their messages, so I started doing the same. I thought this was a nice way to honor Aaron.
A few hours later, “#thankyouaaron” started to rise on the Trending Topics list, and it made me proud to see Aaron honored this way. A couple of hours later, Aaron was to top Trending Topic, and for a moment my sorrow began to meld with pride as people seemed to recognize and honor Aaron.
I received a huge response of direct messages of condolences from Twitter users that were a source of comfort from people that I had never met in honor of Aaron’s sacrifice.
Towards the tail-end of our first telephone conversation with Shelley, Beau and Sascha as they arrived in Dover, I mentioned that Aaron was number one on Twitter, and no one knew what that meant (and neither did I).
I received an email from a reporter from Jerusalem asking about Aaron, and I replied, answering a few questions posed by the reporter.
I found that if you clicked on a Trending Topic it was a link that would display what people were twittering (tweeting) about that topic.
It was then that I realized that all the comments being made about Aaron, and my unbridled emotional outcries were not all positive. I discovered that my statement(s) had been challenged by a segment of regular Twitter users as a hoax.
I turned to Google and searched for the term, “thankyouaaron,” and found that independent tributes to Aaron were springing up all over the Internet. They were very respectful articles that honored Aaron as a true hero who paid the ultimate sacrifice while defending our freedoms abroad.
Many of these articles allowed viewers to comment on the article. One of the first articles that I had found had a posting that accused me of using a fictitious event to promote a book I had written about weight loss that was available online.
I requested that the site’s moderator remove the post before any of Aaron’s family or friends noticed the accusation.
Then the phone started to ring… and ring… and ring… messages were left by media who wanted to talk about Aaron… and Twitter.
Twitter had become more of a controversial conspiracy/nightmare than a source of comfort. At this time, I thought if I could only take back what I had said, because I had never intended to tarnish my son’s sacrifice, but it was too late.
A call beeped-in while I was finishing-up a call with a family member and I found a reporter on the line, who asked if I had a brief moment to talk about Aaron. I was glad to talk about Aaron and agreed to have a brief chat. After answering a few questions, the reporter asked if I knew about the accusations that Aaron’s death was a hoax.
I thought that calls like this should be about Aaron… not me exposed at the weakest point in my life or my being discredited by the Twitter community. But I did intimate that I was aware of it and was trying to do some damage control mentioning that I had asked the moderator of the particular article to remove that horrible post so as not to expose Aaron’s family and friends of my blatant faux pas. The reporter said that he had the article on his screen and confirmed that the comment had been removed, and I thanked God.
He asked if I had anyone else who might be willing to talk to him before he ran a story and I took his number promising to give it to Shelley, Beau and Sascha, so that they could share, if they wanted to.
The paper was able to contact Beau prior to going to press and asked him some questions, followed by, “Is this a hoax?” Beau was sitting with Shelley on his left, Sascha on his right, across from the sister and mother of the other fallen soldier, along with each family’s respective military escort, when he shouted his responses into the phone and abruptly hung up on the reporter.
Shelley called me and explained what had happened, and I wept, broken, that I had caused the family even more pain… and I became a target for familial anger, understandably a part of the grieving process.
Shelley told me that when they retuned to the hotel and turned on the television… my tweets were scrolled along the bottom of the screen just as they appeared on Twitter. Each group of less-than-140 characters preceded by my Twitter username, “David M Masters.” Displayed in that format, it could be perceived that it was more about me, than about Aaron…
When I had tried, so hard, to be my family’s source of strength in our most desperate hour… I had alienated myself ridiculed them and dishonored my son’s ultimate sacrifice.
While media continued to phone… messages deleted… I posted on Twitter, “I will not speak to the media, until Aaron's mother, brother and sister have returned home... I love you, Aaron.”
Broken, speechless and alone in an empty house thousands of miles away from the people I loved the most.
As the media phone calls slowed, then finally stopped coming in… news trucks began to show up at the house, and I informed the reporters that I refused to speak to them without the other family members present and sent them away.