Sunday, October 09, 2011

I don't like funerals ...

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Not since aways back, going to the service for a work associate, acquaintance. Who had left a mighty scar, on a giant roadside tree. Because no one was man enough, to take away his keys. His wife, mother to their infant son. So racked with grief, wailing. Chilled me to my bones.

And then, less than a week later, another person known to me, unexpectedly perished of this earth. Having performed for me, a kindness or two, oer the time I knew them. But I asked of myself, do I really want to go to two funerals, in one week? And the answer, informed my decision, not to attend.

I'm not rationalizing my not suiting up (literally ... shave, coat, tie, shoes shined), for another funeral. That just occurred. I weren't invited ... per se. Though I doubt it would have been a problem, of any sort imaginable. At all. But still, was required I be of some service, in escorting someone known to me, to the funeral. They being a long time friend, of the departed. Making sure that they arrived. In ease, calm, and comfort. So that they could say good bye. While I stood down, stood back. Not in attendance, and yet .... still there. As final goodbyes were said, as three volleys were launched. Signifying the passing, of one of WW II's more distinguished soldiers.

And as the slow, formal, Dress Blue march ... away from the grave. Carrying rifles, and sword. Disassembled. I was simply overcome. Not with grief, for the man who in war, answered the call with a majesty great (and who in life, performed a wondrous towering kindness, to the person in my charge). But in the knowledge that war. Great war is coming. With a speed no one can see. That no one dares believe. Because no one else, is man enough. To take away Islamist Iran's ... radioactive keys

Soon enough, there will lots of funerals.

1 Comments:

Blogger Ronbo said...

Very moving article that I re-posted on my blog here with a link back to you.

BTW, as an extra duty I was assigned as member of a U.S. Army burial detail back in the late 1960s during the Vietnam War when we gave final tribute to many a 19, 20 and 21 year old hero who made the supreme sacrifice for the nation.

I was sad enough to give the colors to a widow, but even sadder to give them to a mother, which meant the young man never lived long enough to have a wife.

11:40 PM  

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