 St Petersburg Times -- Harold and Andrea Pringle sat with family and friends Monday night and marveled over an old homemade video of their son Antwan.
 He couldn't have been more than 11 as he sang with the children's choir at Northside Missionary Baptist Church. Wearing a short-sleeved white shirt, a black clip-on tie and a kente cloth around his shoulders, he clapped and swayed to a rousing version of We Shall Overcome. He was precious as he sang, serious as he looked behind him to keep his younger brother in line.
The scene mirrored who Antwan was and who he would become: a serious soul who helped his family and friends with caring advice and unyielding generosity.
"That video brought a lot of joy into my heart," Andrea Pringle said Tuesday.
When you struggle to grasp the fact your son has died on the other side of the world, you cling to all the special memories you have at home.
Iraq has been through a particularly deadly wave of violence in recent weeks. More than 620 people, including 58 U.S. troops, have been killed since April 28, when insurgents began a bloody campaign of bombings and attacks aimed at the newly formed government.
Army Sgt. Antwan Walker, 22, died May 18 when an insurgent rocket exploded inside his Iraqi compound. As the Pringles made funeral arrangements, spoke to Antwan's commanding officer in Iraq and prepared to receive his body Tuesday, it was clear losing a loved one in combat is unlike any other loss.
"I never thought this would happen," said his brother Andre. "I thought he was coming home with stories to tell."
Antwan told his mother and father he had lived for months with the constant sound of explosions. He was weary of seeing friends die, tired of pulling bodies out of rubble and worried about his own life.
"One time he called me and it sounded like he was in the middle of combat," Harold Pringle said. "He was saying I'm not going to make it, kiss my kids, but I had to talk him off that. I told him he would be okay."
The family's love, along with care packages filled with cookies, Pop Tarts and Vienna sausages, kept Antwan going.
Just weeks - if not days - from ending his Iraqi tour, Antwan was looking forward to hugging his 4-year-old daughter Antwannaja and cuddling his 2-year-old twins Antwanette and Antwan Jr. He was eager to see his family, especially his brother Andre and his sister Tiffany.
And they were oh-so-excited about seeing him. They had fixed up his SUV and planned a feast at Copeland Park with all his friends and all his favorites: ox tails, collard greens, cornbread, rice, sweet potato pie.
But it wouldn't have taken Antwan long to reach out to others. His cousin, Demond Pringle, said Antwan loved to ride around and catch up with old friends. If they were hanging in the streets or off the right track, he would tell them to do something with their lives.
"As an older brother, he was a good role model," said Andre Walker, wearing a memorial shirt with Antwan's picture and the words, The Good Die Young - True Soldier. "We were only 14 months apart. I remember when we were little, sleeping together and he would snore in bed. I would nudge him to get him to stop.
"I wish I could hear him now."
Andrea Pringle said her son would give of himself as much as he would give advice. He often sent home money or gifts to Tiffany's three children when they made good grades.
After being disabled because of a thyroid problem, Andrea started talking about going back to work. But Antwan wouldn't hear it.
"Financially, I wasn't worried, but I wanted to work because I wasn't doing anything for self-worth," Andrea explained. "I told him I'm 43, I'm still young. He said, "You've been working since you were 16, dad makes more than enough money and your children are old enough to take care of you now.
" "If you want to do something, join a gym and I'll pay for it every month.' "
Harold Pringle was solid as he talked to reporters at his sister's home. He set his emotions aside because he wants everyone to know his son was a special person who paid the ultimate price for his country.
"You know what gets me the most? I don't think he had taken a life since he'd been over there," he said.
Andrea Pringle also was remarkably composed.
She says it's a different story at night, however. At home, she's surrounded with boxes full of Antwan's things: throwback jerseys he bought when stationed in Korea, gear he was going to share with Andre when he returned and pictures she sent him after he left for the service five years ago.
"That's the hardest time," Andrea Pringle said. "But I know God doesn't make mistakes. That's what keeps me strong. He just loaned Antwan to me for 22 years. It's hard for me to let go, but at the same time, he was tired."
Andrea and Harold Pringle will always cherish their memories of Antwan, but perhaps the sergeant's death should remind us all of the sacrifices being made, and the lives being broken.
That's all I'm saying. | 
