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Tuesday, April 27, 2004
Loss beyond measure
Copyright © 2004 Blethen Maine Newspapers Inc. | ||||||||||
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Also on this page: In Iraq | |||||||||
Each day at the end of his shift, at 3 p.m. in Mosul, Iraq, Christopher Gelineau would hurry to a computer and log on to the Internet. At the same time, 7 a.m. in Portland, Lavinia Gelineau would sit down at her computer in the spare bedroom. Each would have a digital camera pointed at them so they could send live photos through their computers. Within moments, they would be smiling at images of each other and typing messages around the globe about the littlest things and, often, about how much they were in love. Chris Gelineau's face never appeared on his wife's computer screen last Tuesday. Gelineau, a 23-year-old University of Southern Maine senior and a specialist with the 133rd Engineer Battalion of the Maine Army National Guard, died earlier that day in an attack on his convoy. In Iraq, the death of a well-liked and dedicated young soldier stunned the 133rd, which had not had a combat casualty since World War II. And back home in Portland, it capsized the life of a 24-year-old adoring bride and left his grieving parents to bury their only son and comfort his wife. Nearly a week after receiving the news, Gelineau's wife and mother can now share happy stories about him in between the tears triggered by funeral plans, sympathy notes and, sometimes, nothing in particular. Lots of tears flowed Monday after the mail carrier arrived at Lavinia's apartment with a package from Mosul containing videos Chris had sent before his death. "He is just so full of life," Lavinia said, sitting on her sofa and sobbing. They were college seniors deeply in love, and not afraid to show their affection. Their two-bedroom apartment next to Back Cove in Portland, now filled with flowers and with friends who flow quietly in and out, is decorated with photos of the couple hugging and posing with big cheek-to-cheek smiles. They even had two weddings: the first on April 16, 2002, at his grandfather's home in Vermont, and the second about a year later in a church in her family's hometown in Romania. "He was more than my husband. . . . He was my best friend," she said. "We were both Libras. We were both two arms of the scale. He was the one balancing me." Gelineau's parents, Victoria Chicoine and John Gelineau, are in Portland helping their daughter-in-law endure each day and plan for the future, starting with memorial services this week. Her own parents are expected to arrive from Romania later this week. "Lavi's been making some hard decisions for someone who's only 24 years old," said Victoria Chicoine. Chicoine, while being strong for her daughter-in-law, also weeps at memories of her son, a blond computer whiz and honor student who worked hard to earn his own way. "He was my friend," Chicoine said. Chris Gelineau, who was a semester away from earning his bachelor's degree, spent most of his youth in Vermont. He graduated from Mount Abraham Union High in Bristol, where he programmed a computer database for the school janitor and taught him to use it. "He would help everyone with their computer," his mother said. After high school, he followed the lead of a friend and joined the Army National Guard as a way to pay for his college education. At the time, he expected to help the country in the event of a national disaster, but not a war, his mother said. He transferred into the 133rd when he enrolled at USM in 2000. He and Lavinia met the next summer when they were both working on campus, cleaning and painting apartments. An international student with a scholarship to study at USM, Lavinia had also just finished her first year and, as it happened, had a problem with her computer. Gelineau offered to fix it. They quickly became friends and spent hours talking. Two weeks later, when Lavinia was traveling to Romania to visit her family, Chris drove her to the bus station. They would e-mail each other every day. Less than a year later, they were married and inseparable. "We did absolutely everything together," she said. The couple was wrenched apart last November, when Chris was called up to active duty. "I said, 'What's going to happen if I never see you again.' He said, 'I'm going to come back,' " Lavinia remembers. "He said, 'I'm not worried about me. I'm scared about you because you love me so much.' " She thought of him constantly, and would send letters and packages of sheets and pillows and other reminders of home. He would send computerized journals and messages, including one that printed out in the middle of the night in her apartment with the words "I love you. I love you. . . ." covering the page. For their second anniversary earlier this month, Lavinia sent Chris a file titled "Till We Meet Again" with a slide show of photos of the couple. As the photos flashed on the screen, the computer played the theme song to the movie "Love Story." Lavinia watched the video one more time Monday, kissing her hand and touching the screen as it ended with a photo of Chris. Lavinia's grief now sometimes gives way to anger that her husband was put in danger. She said she gets angry when people say he was there to do his duty, or for some higher purpose. "He was just there because the Guard told him to go there," she said. "I just want them to bring the troops home. No one needs to go through this. No one needs to bury a husband who is 23 years old." Staff Writer John Richardson can be contacted at 791- 6324 or at:
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Portland Press Herald/Maine Sunday Telegram journalists