Divided in Their Grief

When Private 1st Class Ramon Villatoro Jr. shipped out to Iraq, his wife, Amanda, stopped praying.

Instead, she begged. She pleaded with God to keep her husband safe and to send him an occasional breeze in the furnace-like heat.

Ramon and Amanda, 19-year-old high school sweethearts, had been married three months. Amanda told Ramon that if anything happened to him, her life would be over.

One week after Ramon went to war in March, Amanda discovered she was pregnant. Ramon was thrilled. They had talked of family. This was what they’d dreamed.

On July 24, an insurgent’s bomb detonated near the Bradley fighting vehicle carrying Villatoro in Baghdad. In a war that has claimed the lives of at least 2,153 members of the U.S. military as of Friday, Villatoro was No. 1,782.

Each American casualty on the battlefields of Iraq rips at the fabric of families at home. Grief is universal. But beyond that, the ripples are unpredictable. Patriotism can be stirred or extinguished; relatives united or torn apart. No family is unchanged.

When the officer went to Amanda’s home at 8 a.m. to deliver the news, she tumbled out of bed in pajamas, her long dark hair in disarray and her belly swollen.

She saw the uniform and worried that Ramon had been injured. She listened carefully. Then she went into the small bedroom she shared with her mother, shut the door and screamed.

In less than a year, Amanda Villatoro had become a wife and had gotten pregnant. Now she was a widow.

“He was just the love of my life,” said Amanda. “It scares me to think about the rest of my life.”

*

Amanda and Ramon grew up in a modest Bakersfield neighborhood, the oldest children in families rocked by conflict. Ramon’s father was unemployed, his mother ironed clothing for a cleaning service. Amanda’s parents divorced when she was a teenager.

“In a way, they were both in a position to be adults before their time,” said Debra Thorson, a high school English teacher.

They were likable, humble kids in a community short on opportunities and plagued by gangs. Ramon played football and baseball. Amanda was a cheerleader and an honors student. She talked of becoming a lawyer; he wanted to be a doctor. They both participated on the debate team and started dating as sophomores.

After Sept. 11, Ramon became determined to enlist. He was too young. But he told his mother, Margarita, “I have to do something for my country.” After graduating from high school last year, he enlisted.

As a senior, Ramon had switched high schools. He and Amanda broke up for almost a year. When they saw each other again, Amanda vowed to play it cool. She strolled up and found herself saying: “I missed you so much.”

Two days later, they were engaged.

“Just understand, the military is my life,” Ramon said.

“I respected that,” said Amanda.

*

Ramon’s parents tried to ignore their son’s relationship with Amanda. He was too young to settle down, they thought. When he returned from boot camp, his family and a former teacher met him at the airport. They went home for dinner and Ramon regaled everyone with tales of his training. Amanda, his fiancee, was not invited.

After dinner, Ramon left to see Amanda.

At first, neither set of parents approved of the planned marriage. Young love, they believed, could be fickle and short-lived. But Amanda’s mother, Tomasita Ibarra, knew her daughter was strong-willed, and she found herself charmed by the earnest, charismatic young man. The wedding was held at her house.

Ramon’s parents did not attend.

After the wedding, Ibarra brought photographs over to Ramon’s mother. A peace offering. She spoke of the trials of marriage, and how the kids would need their parents’ support. Margarita Villatoro nodded, Ibarra recalled. The visit, she thought, was going better than she had expected.

When Ibarra turned to go, Margarita remarked that she didn’t want to see Amanda play with her son’s heart. Ibarra drew herself tall and replied that she, in turn, didn’t want Ramon playing with Amanda’s heart. The clash of the families was cultural, Amanda and her mother believed. Ramon’s parents were traditional. Ramon grew up speaking Spanish; Amanda’s halting Spanish was the product of a hired tutor.

Amanda’s father built houses and her mother was a school librarian. Amanda had taken ballet and gymnastics lessons. Her family wasn’t wealthy, but she had enough money to go to movies and dinner -- and often she treated Ramon, a fact that he found embarrassing.

Ramon had always helped out with his parents’ household expenses. Amanda and her mother wondered whether Ramon’s parents feared what might happen when their son had a family of his own to support.

Fernely Villatoro, Ramon’s 18-year-old brother, said he could not remember what prompted his parents’ ill feeling toward Amanda. “She did try to fit in with the family,” he said. Ramon Sr. and Margarita Villatoro declined to comment.

Several days after the wedding, Sammie Novack, Ramon’s eighth-grade English teacher, took the newlyweds to dinner at the Olive Garden. Ramon arrived in his uniform and presented his former teacher with two dozen pink and white roses -- a tribute that brought tears to his teacher’s eyes.

It seemed to Novack that the smart boy, in whom she’d seen an inner spark, had morphed into a responsible man who had married just the right woman.

“I remember just how strikingly beautiful Amanda was,” said Novack. “You could tell how in love they were, they were very affectionate and couldn’t stop staring at each other.”

*

After the wedding, Ramon and Amanda moved to Ft. Carson, Colo., where the sky loomed large and air sparkled. Pine trees dotted the ridges and the young couple felt they had tumbled into a world away from Bakersfield.

Every day Amanda brought lunch to her husband or he returned to their apartment to eat. Ramon had never forgotten how Amanda used to pick up their tabs. Now, he felt, it was his turn. He bought her $370 Christian Dior sunglasses and a lilac-colored Coach purse, which she loved but insisted on returning so they could buy clothes he needed.

Ramon had always wanted a Welsh corgi that he planned to name George. But at the mall pet store, Amanda was smitten with a pug. So Ramon shelled out $1,500. And when the couple spotted Amanda’s dream car, a black two-door 2001 Acura Integra, Ramon bought it.

“He liked being the husband who got his wife all these things,” Amanda said.

He also knew that he was to be deployed in a matter of weeks.

One afternoon, Amanda spotted a Purple Heart bumper sticker. How pretty, she thought. She turned to Ramon and said, “I’d love to have one of those.”

No, you don’t ever want one of those, Ramon replied. He explained this was a military decoration awarded to members of the armed forces who had been wounded or killed in action.

*

By summer, Amanda had grown accustomed to the rhythm of her new life, back in Bakersfield with her mother. Twice a week she sent care packages to Ramon, supplying him with toothbrushes, socks and Starburst candies to give to children. They talked by phone every week. They wrote each other letters almost daily. She mailed him an ultrasound photo and a recording of the baby’s heartbeat. In July, Ramon’s stint was more than halfway finished.

He sent her a recorded message saying: “I love you, Mama. I’m always thinking of you, and I’ll be home soon.” Then he made the sound of a kiss. She played it every night. Twice, he sent two dozen red roses.

When Ramon’s parents’ van broke down, she started taking them to doctors’ appointments and to the store. She picked up his sisters from school and dropped off his brother at his job. But as her pregnancy progressed, driving became difficult. Ramon instructed her to lend his parents money for the down payment on a used car. He did not want her driving around, he said.

In late July, Ramon called and said he was tired and that patrols were getting bad. Amanda urged Ramon to phone his family, with whom he hadn’t spoken for more than a month. He agreed and called her back afterward. He thought the conversation went well. They talked of the baby shower. Ramon, they believed, would return home in time for the baby’s birth.

When the officers told Amanda of Ramon’s death, she felt numb. Then it hit her. “Oh, my God. I’m a single mother.”

Ramon’s father called Amanda and directed her to go to the family’s home to talk to the media. Amanda recoiled. “I’m not doing interviews now,” she told him.

She could not fathom talking to strangers about how she felt. How could she explain that even when her mother’s tiny house was full of family, she felt so alone? At least wait until Ramon’s body comes home, she urged her father-in-law.

The next day, Amanda saw the local paper and flew into a fury. She believed that her father-in-law’s comments were antiwar and antimilitary. Never once did he say he was proud of his son.

“Is this what you wanted? You wanted me to be part of this garbage?” she recalled asking. “I will never forgive you for this.”

Amanda felt galvanized. She agreed to interviews. Her eyes glistened as she told how much her husband loved the military and honored his country. She described herself as pro-war. When she learned that a small group had vowed to protest at her husband’s services, Amanda publicly defended the protesters’ rights to speak freely, saying her husband had died protecting such rights.

“I’ve worked so hard not to place blame on the war or the military,” she said. “This is what my husband wanted to do; this is his choice. And my husband will never have died in vain.”

Despite their differing views on the war, Amanda tried to include Ramon’s family. She invited his family to attend an ultrasound screening of the baby. They didn’t show up. She agreed to a Spanish Mass at her mother-in-law’s church, even though Amanda’s grasp of the language was tenuous. She ordered two flags and two sets of medals. It did nothing to lessen the tension.

In life and with his death, the battle between the families boiled down to one question: Who loved Ramon most? His parents or his wife? When Ramon’s body arrived in California, Amanda and her in-laws fought over who would be in the first car behind the hearse, Fernely Villatoro said.

Bakersfield rallied to support the poised young widow. Hundreds went to Ramon’s funeral. Amanda sent thank-you cards to those who had signed the guest book. She hugged those who approached to console her.

Local radio talk-show host Inga Barks described Amanda as an inspiration. “She’s a pregnant 19-year-old who’s not saying, ‘What about me?’ She’s saying, ‘Honor Ramon, honor Ramon.’ ”

On a steamy August Saturday, Barks held a baby shower for Amanda and invited the public. Ramon’s family did not attend. More than 100 people filed into the airless room, toting teddy bears and onesies, hand-knit baby blankets and photo frames. Some discreetly handed cash or folded checks to the teen, who wore a strapless light-blue maternity dress.

Kathy Deeter, a 50-year-old mother of two, clutched Amanda’s hand and told her, “You have such grace and dignity.” To Deeter, Amanda seemed the antithesis of war protester Cindy Sheehan, whose son was killed in Iraq.

Amanda chatted with everyone. She oohed and ahhed over gifts. She talked of her plans to finish college and become a court reporter. When she met women with sons in the military, she reassured them.

The attention showered upon Amanda, she believed, was difficult for Ramon’s parents.

“His mother felt she raised him for 18 years and I come along, we get married and now he’s mine,” said Amanda. “I’m sorry they feel that way.”

It was also a matter of money. Ramon’s life insurance policy named his wife. She received $250,000. She never discussed it with her in-laws. When the Army invited the family to fly to Ft. Carson for a memorial service for Ramon, Amanda flew with her mother and sister. Ramon’s family was on the same flight, but the two families sat apart. In Colorado, Amanda’s mother drove a rental SUV carrying her daughters; Ramon’s family rode in the Army van to the Comfort Inn.

Before the memorial service, the Army provided a private room in the chapel for the grieving families of four slain soldiers. At Ramon’s table, his family sat at one end and Amanda sat at another. They didn’t speak.

After the service, the two families sat separately at one table for lunch. Again, they didn’t speak.

An Army wives’ group gave Amanda a cavalry blanket, a group photo of Ramon’s unit and a baby blanket. Then Ramon’s supervising officer presented her with a CD of a service held for Ramon in Iraq and a large plaque in his honor. Amanda’s eyes widened. She was pleased that the plaque photo clearly showed Ramon’s wedding ring. When the officer handed her Ramon’s metal ID tags, she burst into tears.

Ramon’s parents watched, wordlessly.

Then the two families drove in different cars to the discount stores on base.

Amanda had long been a recreational shopper, but now she had money. She plucked a $196 Dooney & Bourke bag from the rack. “Diaper bag,” she explained. She found two Precious Moments statuettes of children dressed as soldiers. She would put these in the baby’s room. She selected pink nail polish for her mother and desert and jungle camouflage onesies for her child.

In returning to Ft. Carson, Amanda hoped to relive memories. For dinner, she chose the Mexican restaurant that she and Ramon liked best. Afterward, she took her mother and sister to the mall where she and Ramon found Duchess, their pug.

As she approached the pet store, she described how gallant Ramon had been, relinquishing his choice in favor of hers. Then she spotted a trio of pug puppies in a glass cage. “Oooh, look at this one,” Amanda cooed, pointing out a forlorn male.

Amanda looked pleadingly at her mother, who shrugged. The clerk brought the puppy for Amanda to play with. She mused that she could name him Prince. The puppy swiped the pink heart toy that Amanda had intended to purchase for Duchess. “Are you going to come home with me?” Amanda asked the dog.

Amanda bought the puppy and a travel case. She would have to sneak it into the hotel. After selecting a collar, treats and toys, Amanda paid $1,153.

Ibarra sighed. “If that’s going to make her happy....”

Amanda’s younger sister asked, “What do you think Ramon is saying right now?”

Amanda smiled.

“One pug wasn’t enough?”

*

In the weeks after Amanda’s return, she set herself to training her new puppy and preparing for her baby’s birth. She and her mother moved into the living room and transformed their bedroom into a nursery.

Amanda stopped crying in the shower. Her bad dreams ceased. She no longer felt anxious being home alone. She liked to mull over the stories she would tell her son about his daddy. She liked to study her unborn baby’s sonogram -- particularly, his lips and cheeks.

“I honestly think he looks just like his father,” she said.

One day, she realized that she could no longer remember the smell of Ramon. Or what it was like to be held by him.

On Nov. 14, Ramon Aristedes Villatoro III was born. He was 19 1/4 inches long and weighed 7 pounds, 7 ounces.

Margarita and Ramon Sr. went to see their grandson later that day. Margarita said the newborn looked just like her son. Ramon Sr. burst into tears.