As many of you know, my father died at 3 a.m. Monday, and yesterday was his funeral and burial. It went well, all in all, in spite of frantic last-minute preparations and calls to the military: we wanted Dad to be buried with full military honors, and at first they said no dice, there was not enough time for it to be done. I called an old friend of Dad, a retired Air Force general, and he said not to worry, he would take care of it.
Dad looked great laying in peace in his silver casket: his face was dignified and yet sort of stern-looking, which fit him perfectly, hah. He was in his best business suit and had a rosary around his large, worn hands. I was astonished at the number of people who showed up on such short notice, some from several states away. A few told me stories I have never heard before about him: I gather that he had quite a sense of humor and was fearless on combat missions, yet was scared of storms in the air.
I put Mom in her wheelchair in front of Dad's casket to say her goodbyes, and it was heartrending. Yet I didn't cry. I gave my eulogy and told them how he first taught me to walk, and then taught me how to talk. I told them how he taught me to have appreciation for life, how he had such an infectious passion for it, and finally how he taught us all how to die. There was not a dry eye in the place, and my voice caught a few times, but I shed no tears.
When we arrived at Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery, I gasped: there were soldiers saluting from the side of the road leading to the small chapel on a hill. We brought the flag-draped coffin inside the structure and I held Mom's hand as they fired the nine-gun salute and while a soldier played taps with his bugle some distance away at the edge of the woods. A couple of Air Force enlistees, one a female Senior Airman and the other a Staff Sergeant carefully removed the flag from the casket and slowly folded the flag into a triangular shape. I couldn't help it: the care in which the Senior Airman took in folding it brought me to tears. It was beautiful! The Senior Airman slowly marched away and the Staff Sergeant said some words to Mom and presented the flag to her. He saluted, then slowly marched away. A third guy, a retired WW II veteran, said words to her as well and gave her a coin commemorating the ceremony, saluted and marched away as well. I was pretty much bawling by then, hah. As we left, I patted the coffin and told Dad we will see him upstairs.
That was part of my day yesterday. I guess I am not as emotionally resilient as I thought, and it will take me forever to fill the hole in my chest.
Just saying.
Dad looked great laying in peace in his silver casket: his face was dignified and yet sort of stern-looking, which fit him perfectly, hah. He was in his best business suit and had a rosary around his large, worn hands. I was astonished at the number of people who showed up on such short notice, some from several states away. A few told me stories I have never heard before about him: I gather that he had quite a sense of humor and was fearless on combat missions, yet was scared of storms in the air.
I put Mom in her wheelchair in front of Dad's casket to say her goodbyes, and it was heartrending. Yet I didn't cry. I gave my eulogy and told them how he first taught me to walk, and then taught me how to talk. I told them how he taught me to have appreciation for life, how he had such an infectious passion for it, and finally how he taught us all how to die. There was not a dry eye in the place, and my voice caught a few times, but I shed no tears.
When we arrived at Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery, I gasped: there were soldiers saluting from the side of the road leading to the small chapel on a hill. We brought the flag-draped coffin inside the structure and I held Mom's hand as they fired the nine-gun salute and while a soldier played taps with his bugle some distance away at the edge of the woods. A couple of Air Force enlistees, one a female Senior Airman and the other a Staff Sergeant carefully removed the flag from the casket and slowly folded the flag into a triangular shape. I couldn't help it: the care in which the Senior Airman took in folding it brought me to tears. It was beautiful! The Senior Airman slowly marched away and the Staff Sergeant said some words to Mom and presented the flag to her. He saluted, then slowly marched away. A third guy, a retired WW II veteran, said words to her as well and gave her a coin commemorating the ceremony, saluted and marched away as well. I was pretty much bawling by then, hah. As we left, I patted the coffin and told Dad we will see him upstairs.
That was part of my day yesterday. I guess I am not as emotionally resilient as I thought, and it will take me forever to fill the hole in my chest.
Just saying.
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