On Monday, the Salt Lake City resident held a photo of Capt. Ernesto Blanco, who was killed in Qaryat Ash Shababi by an explosive as he stooped to give two Iraqi girls candy on the side of the road.

The body of the man that had gone to war returned covered in bandages.

"If you look at this smile? We didn't see that again because of the shroud on his face," said Maymi, clutching a photo of her nephew taken days before his Dec. 28, 2003 death.

Maymi passed out cards with Blanco's photo during a downtown vigil on Monday held to commemorate the U.S. death toll in Iraq reaching the 4,000 mark. She said news of the somber milestone hit her hard on Easter Sunday, as she realized thousands of other families were celebrating without loved ones.

"All I could do was think about [Blanco]. All I could do was think about those 4,000 other families," she said.

Those who attended a 6 p.m. vigil outside the Wallace F. Bennett Federal Building expressed similar sentiments, along with frustration that more people didn't come out to pay their respects.

"Is this all the outrage there is in the community? This is outrageous," yelled Kevin Bushman of Salt Lake City, who arrived at the protest with a homemade sign that read, "Killing humans for oil is immoral."

His anger turned to sadness as each of the roughly 20 people in attendance took turns passing around a gong to symbolize lives lost in the war. Tears rolled down Bushman's face as each person in the crowd continued to bang the gong.

No one at the vigil spoke in favor of the U.S. occupation of Iraq.

Carla Hitz of Sandy said the 4,000 mark is particularly chilling for parents of servicemen and women. She said she lived life "one moment at a time" throughout her son's two tours of duty in Iraq, where he served as a Blackhawk pilot. Her son's safe return to the U.S. is little consolation, knowing there are other parents who instead will learn their son or daughter has become a casualty of the war.

"The grief is overwhelming because another parent is going to get that knock on the door," Hitz said. "It's a wound that stays."

Maymi said her way of honoring her nephew is to make sure people don't forget him.

"He wasn't just a casualty. He was a person," she said.

mrogers@sltrib.com