April 9, 2010, Burying Mom and Dad

After many days of warm sunny weather, this day had to be cold and breezy, just the kind of weather my parents didn’t like because it went right through them and Dad had difficulty both with breathing in the cold but also with Raynaud. Yet the ceremony was warm just the same.

Thomas and I arrived ahead of the funeral director who brought the urn and the flag. Once they arrived, we followed them up the hill to the Bath National Cemetery in Bath, NY.

The cemetery is situated up the hill behind the Veteran’s Hospital complex. The complex is lovely with many buildings serving a variety of purposes from dorms to crafts and chapels. It is wooded with the treed foothills as a backdrop.

My first thought of the cemetery is that it was peaceful and serene, secluded as it is but that its military uniformity didn’t really match my family. Dad and Mom were nothing like other parents and I really wish we could have placed them somewhere that we could have a unique stone. But Dad was proud of his military service, as he was of the country he served, and so are we. It was fitting that he be buried in the place he wanted since so much of his last few years caring for Mom were out of his control as were the last seven weeks of his life. Perhaps he got that control back in this way.

When our vehicle rounded the bend we were met with the sight of two military personnel, dressed in their dress uniforms standing at attention. When the car carrying the urn passed, they slowly raised their hands in salute. It gave me chills and stirred my emotions.

We parked behind them and waited silently as the soldiers refolded the flag. The rest of our family began to arrive but I really wanted to stay engaged in that peaceful beautiful moment. Thomas gave me his arm and escorted me to one of the six seats facing a table overlooking the cemetery’s main monument and flagpole. It was downhill from where we sat and took a few moments for me to realize, but the honor guard of three soldiers assembled below us at attention.

The urn carrying my parent’s was carried somberly by the color guard to be placed on the table with the American flag before it. Our minster began with an introduction. He backed away and Blam! One rifle sounded. I jumped because it was so sudden. Tears welled in my eyes as I realized my dad was getting a gun salute. Blam! Another and then a third rang out. A three gun salute. By now I was crying so hard I almost couldn’t see the honor guard and then I heard the piercing sound of a trumpet from behind us. It was Taps, one of the most hauntingly beautiful tunes ever written, in my opinion. There is something about Taps that reaches way down inside you, much the same feeling I get from bagpipes which we had at the memorial. I was so touched and so proud of my papa. It was just so beautiful.

Next the color guard took up the flag and in perfect unison they unfolded and refolded the flag once more. A slow precise salute and it was handed off to the female soldier who turn slowly and approached were I sat. She knelt and placed the flag in my lap. "Mam, the country is grateful for your father’s service. We are sorry for your loss." More tears and the brief thought that I hate being called Mam, except for now. Now it was a great honor. I said "My family thanks you."

Aware that my sister sat beside me and not wanting her to feel left out, I took her hand and placed it on top of the flag in my lap and held it as the minister led us through the religious rites.
Following the actual ceremony which took place in a small shelter, we had to wait 30 minutes for the urn to be buried. We returned later, my sister, her husband and son, Thomas and myself. Trying not to step in the mud we placed roses on the grave.

It is still so hard to think of my tiny dear mother and my big strong Daddy as ashes in the ground. But just today I had a sudden revelation, something I have really known all along but needed the reminder, they are still with us not as ashes in the ground but changed into another form. Their bodies are things we can no longer touch and that is part of my sadness. I took to kissing them both on the foreheads in the past year and Dad always gave me great big bear hugs at bedtime when we stayed over. I’ll never have that again, but I will always have his humor and his thoughtfulness and my mom’s generosity and sensitivity. They are nearby, I call on them everyday. They are nearby.