Casey Austin Sheehan:
29 May 1979 – 04 April 2004
Cindy Sheehan / Cindy Sheehan’s Soapbox Newsletter

(April 4, 2023) – Today is the 19th year since my son Casey was killed in Iraq in the Empire’s filthy war against its people. This is a reprint of an article I wrote on his birthday almost 10-years ago. Thank you for your love & support!

I am already crying.

My oldest child, Casey, would have turned 34 years old today if he hadn’t been murdered in one of the US Empire’s string of needless wars for profit and Imperial hegemony.

Birthdays are more difficult to endure than deathdays. Deathdays are supposed to be sad, but birthdays should be a day of celebration and joy.

Casey was born at 1:01 in the morning after a long day of labor at Kaiser Hospital in Bellflower, Ca. When he was little, we still lived near Kaiser and whenever we passed it, hewe still lived near Kaiser and whenever we passed it, he would mix “General Hospital” and “The Dukes of Hazard” and say, “There’s the General Lee hospital where I was born.” Casey was filled with life and wonder as are most toddlers. Every night when we would tuck him in and kiss him good night, he would say, “this was the best day of my life.”

After he was murdered, my life was shattered and my heart was demolished and after nine years, the tears are still spilling over and never far from the surface. However, the only way to go is forward and Casey lives in all of us.

I read somewhere that gravestones give the vital statistics of birth and death, but the “dash” between those dates really tells the whole story. we still lived near Kaiser and whenever we passed it, he would mix “General Hospital” and “The Dukes of Hazard” and say, “There’s the General Lee hospital where I was born.” Casey was filled with life and wonder as are most toddlers. Every night when we would tuck him in and kiss him good night, he would say, “this was the best day of my life.”

After he was murdered, my life was shattered and my heart was demolished and after nine years, the tears are still spilling over and never far from the surface. However, the only way to go is forward and Casey lives in all of us.

I read somewhere that gravestones give the vital statistics of birth and death, but the “dash” between those dates really telSleep the entire story. Casey’s “dash” was short, but he was a boy, then man, who had strong principles that he never wavered from. He didn’t want to go to Iraq, but he went and was killed a few days after he got there after refusing the order that led to his death.

Casey was forced to go on the mission that killed him and I was never comforted by all the “hero” talk until I learned of the true hero he really was. Casey could never kill anyone and I know if he had survived his initial deployment, he never would have been the same.

In honor of my brave son, I am determined to infuse my “dash” with the struggle for peace and a nation where peace reigns and things like education and healthcare are human rights, not privileges for the oligarchy — so our children don’t have to fight, kill, and die (or go into onerous debt) to receive the human right of a decent education.

While mourning his unjustified murder, every day I strive to live up to Casey’s life.

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