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The last three days have been very difficult. Thanks to Knitgeek, Fin, and the Samurai's angelic aunt, we had comfy places to stay and good things to eat. It was wonderful to introduce all of our hosts to the Samurai's old buddy Tam, who served as our best man twenty years ago and helped the Samurai "toughen up" (read:torment) his little brother even longer ago. An awful lot of our family gathered to say farewell to the Pilot. I was glad to see most of them, and I was nice to one blowhard old Cud'n because the Pilot would have wanted me to be sweet to him. Many of the Pilot's colleagues were there, too, including his CO, a gracious and kind man. He told us that the Pilot was responsible for rescuing him a few years back, with tears in his dark eyes. We made it through "visitation" with only occasional kid-hugging breaks. Poor little Elbone just dissolves every now and then, and we are her personal property, so she comes to us for hugs. The boys are more stoic, but the Samurai has an uncanny sense for when they're sad. We tried to keep their poor mom from having to deal with their grief on top of her own, at least for a while. The Knitgeek's wonderful parents came for a while, and Knitmom's perfume lingered with me for hours after she hugged me. They were incredibly comforting. Tuesday at Arlington was gorgeous, sunny, cool, and clear. The Air Force honored our brother with all the pomp and circumstance at its disposal, and we did our best to stand tall and make him proud. The long walk behind the caisson made me glad to be alive, as I felt the cool breeze on my face and watched the chipmunks scampering beneath majestic old trees. Watching the C130 thunder overhead, and listening to the Pilot's Bronze Star citation read aloud, I was amazed at how much my boyish little brother was respected by these brave men and women, including his Colonel, who hiked the two miles to the gravesite on an artificial leg. I saw Blooeye standing there in her dress uniform, and I thought of all the selfless folks like her, and the Colonel, that I'm privileged to know. Following the service, we glanced at the headstone near the Pilot's feet, where we all stopped in amazement. I read the inscription twice to be sure. It was his mother's grave. The Pilot is in the next row, one over from Mom. They both have a lovely view of the Pentagon. I'm going to miss our brother every time we gather together. I'll tell his kids about his silliness: the way he sang and danced to get Elbone to sleep ("Mississippi Mud"), watching him prance around with the Samurai, singing "The Bare Necessities" to make toddler Chando laugh, listening for his "pet duck" when he'd had beans or cabbage for dinner, hearing his braying laugh. We'll remember how kind and gentle he was with us, our fallen warrior brother. Godspeed, indeed, Major. Say hi to Mom, Granny, and your uncles for me. |
 
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Godspeed