Moving Day – Part 3

When he came home, he took night classes to get his high school diploma and then used the GI Bill to attend college.  He became a teacher and that was where he met Heather’s Grandma.  They were married, had two children, and finally saved up enough to buy a house.  She told me how her Grandpa immediately put a flag pole in the front yard and flew the American flag and Marine Corps flag every day.  He worked hard, continued going to night school, and got his doctorate in education.  By the time Heather went to high school, he was the principal.  He was easy to pick out when walking the hallways because of the distinct limp he still had from the wounds he sustained so long ago.  Heather remembered that at the tenth reunion of her graduating class, so many of her friends told stories of how her Grandpa had helped them and kept them focused on their studies so that they ended up graduating and going to college.

Just before he was about to retire, her Grandma passed away from cancer.  So, George continued working because he could not stand being alone in their home.  Time passed and her aunt and her husband passed away but they never had any children.  Her parents finally took Grandpa into their home when he started falling due to the limp.  When they passed, she wanted to bring Grandpa to her home but he was no longer able to negotiate the steps so she was forced to put him in a nursing home.  About a year later, he was confined to a wheelchair but his mind was still sharp.  Heather said she visited him every Saturday and loved to hear the stories he told of the Corps, his courting of her Grandma, the flag raising and lowering ceremonies he did each day, students he remembered.  Even when he repeated a story, she loved just hearing him talk.  About a month ago, he began getting quiet and staying in bed.  His body was just worn out.

“And today, I sit here alone.  I drove by his old house and wanted to cry when I saw they had removed the flagpole from the front yard.  People just don’t know the cost of their freedom – people just don’t appreciate what his generation did for them.  I guess God has even forgotten about Grandpa,” as the tears expressed what words could not say.

“May I go to the gravesite with you and pay my respect to this wonderful man?” and she nodded her head.  “Let me go talk to the funeral director to see if he will let me ride in the hearse so you don’t have to worry about me getting there.  Excuse me for a minute.”

I found the office and asked to see the person in charge of Mr. Bowman’s arrangements.  Mr. Jones introduced himself but I had more important things on my mind.  Using an online directory, I found the phone number to the local Marine recruiter’s office and made a quick phone call.  I explained that a World War II Marine hero was about to be laid to rest and had no one to honor his service.  I told him that Mr. Jones would give them all the information they needed to get a couple of recruiters out there to at least fold the flag for his granddaughter.  Mr. Jones gave me a thumbs up and I returned to sit with Heather and learn more about George.

The time to go to the gravesite was upon us before we realized.  Mr. Jones and an assistant were about to move the casket when I stopped them.  Looking at Heather, I asked, “May I say a prayer before we leave this room?”  She smiled and bowed her head as I began to thank God for the goodness of this man and that Heather and her family would sense His love during the trying days ahead.

Mr. Jones and I rode in silence as we slowly made our way to the burial site.  Some cars pulled over out of respect as we drove through town and others just went on by like their destination was more important than the last ride of a member of the greatest generation.  As we neared the cemetery, I noticed a lot of cars parked along the road.  When we turned into the gates, the roadway was lined with men and women – some saluting – some with their hands over their hearts – and they stretched clear to the gravesite.  I looked in the side mirror to see that Heather was just sitting in her car crying.  I asked Mr. Jones to stop so I could go back to see about her.  As I was exiting, he said, “I called some friends at the American Legion and told them about Mr. Bowman.  I knew I could count on them to show up.  Semper Fi, my friend.”

I helped Heather get out of the car and motioned for one of the men standing at attention to take the car.  Together, we walked behind the hearse as it moved to the gravesite.  The local recruiters were waiting to act as pallbearers for George.  I helped Heather to a seat and since there was not pastor present, I shared some of the stories she had told me with those in attendance and then offered a prayer.  As I stepped away, the Marine and Navy recruiters took their position at the head and foot of the casket.  As they lifted the flag to begin folding it for presentation to Heather, a low hum began to rise.  The veterans were humming ‘Taps’ and I believe the angels would have been crying at the beauty that was unfolding at that moment.

As the folks began to make their way back to their cars, I got my backpack and hat from the hearse and thanked Mr. Jones for what he had been able to accomplish.  I then just sat with Heather – the silence allowed her to begin the process of healing from her loss.  When she was ready, I walked her to her car.

“Can I drop you off somewhere?”  she asked.

“I’m fine – it’s time for me to move on.”  I turned my back and began walking away.  I could not help but sing.

“Jesus loves the little children. All the children of the world…”