Goodbyes

Saying Goodbye to Old Vets

Ray was a tall, stately looking gentleman.  He walked gingerly with a cane but was adamant about getting himself around.  A full head of white hair framed his sparkling eyes.  He’d had many and varied life experiences.  He was full of tales that he loved to share.  It was during the telling of those tales that his eyes would really twinkle.

During the year or so that I came to know Ray he had become increasingly disillusioned with the fact that his body was not keeping up with his very sharp mind.  His was often want to bay fully ask, “What am I still doing here?”  Those within earshot who knew and cared about him would respond with some witty rejoinder but Ray’s follow-up smiles occurred less often.

Then there was Virginia.  She had a petite, elfin-like appearance with large expressive eyes framed with long golden locks of hair.  Her smile was full across her face and would come quickly, being accompanied by a very positive assessment of the state of her life.  She had been Ray’s best friend and caretaker since I had known them.  Toward the end of her time with Ray her quick smile had given way to looks of concern over Ray’s attitude toward living.  Virginia was obviously concerned over Ray’s failing health but she spoke most often of his uncharacteristically dour attitude.  Virginia’s worry showed in her expressive eyes as their sparkle gave way to distant, wondering looks.

Then, one morning, as I was sitting immersed in thoughts of one thing or another, my phone’s ring startled me back to the present.  Virginia’s steady voice came to tell me that Ray had passed into the light.  I immediately stood and walked out into the sunshine.  I don’t know why but there were tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat.  Of late death has become a sobering concept.  It has not been a fear that I have felt but a melancholy for that which has been left unsaid or left undone.  I have been feeling a melancholy that comes with advancing age for those things left behind.  Virginia sounded so calm and her words brought me back to the moment.  I asked, “How can I help you?  What can I do to lighten your burden?”  She said we could talk later.  Suddenly the call was finished.  The information had been passed.  There I was standing in the warm sun with a lump in my throat and a heavy heart for Virginia.

We talked a few times over the days that followed.  We sat together on occasion, chatting idly with spurts of talk about what the future might hold.  As the days passed Virginia’s plan for a celebration of Ray’s life came into focus.  Finally, two days before the memorial service Virginia called to ask for my help.  I was to do two things.  First, Virginia asked, “Would I please count the number of people attending the service?”  She felt that she would be too scattered to remember that detail and many people who could not attend would want to know that fact.  It would salve their guilt for not being at the service that honored their friend.  It was the first hint to me of a small chink in her show of strength during this traumatic time.

Secondly and much more significantly, I was assigned the task of fetching a dear friend of theirs from the airport and escorting her to the service.  The details were interesting.  She would arrive on the morning of the service.  Upon arrival she would call me and upon arriving at the airport I was to look for a beautiful blond woman holding a carrot cake.  Those details made me smile.

The morning came and I trotted off to the airport to fulfill my promise.  She, we’ll call her Carolyn (because that is her name) called me upon her arrival.  The voice that came to me was distinctive.  The voice had a certain “je ne sai quoi” but it did not lead my mind to a “beautiful blond”.  I drove toward the passenger arrival area and saw her immediately.  She was very tan.  Her light hair that shined in the sun accented her bronzed body.  She was wearing a full-length black dress and had a white cake box firmly in her grasp.  I stopped before her.  He leaned forward and opened the door.  I turned to look at her and it was a jaw dropping moment.  It was not that she was so beautiful, although she was beautiful.  It was that her smile and manner was so warm.  Carolyn was enchanting.

We had a couple of hours before the gathering so I took her up to the farm.  She said that she needed some quiet time to rehearse her eulogy for Ray.  It was a warm, sunny morning.  Carolyn wandered off amongst the trees and I busied myself with one thing or another.  From time to time I would seek her out and observe her from afar.  When she was stand still her posture was firm, her bearing strong.  When she was moving through the field she seemed to glide between the trees.  She was such a pleasure to observe but I was careful not to stare.  I found a ripe fig and took it to her, but I was quick to retreat.

Finally, the time had come to depart for the site.  Our ride down the mountain was quiet.  She seemed to be focused, probably on her speech.  We arrived at the shore, which was hot and humid.  It was quite a contrast to the cool breeze at the farm.  After a time I turned onto a ribbon of asphalt that crept into the lava field.  Rising up from the ocean, we passed over the top of a knoll and into a square of bright green grass.  This small grass island surrounded by brown lava festooned with Pili grass was the home of the veteran’s cemetery.  The place had been very well cared for with its finely trimmed grass and polished memorial shrines.

We were among the first to arrive and set about helping Virginia and her other friends arrange the food for after the service.  As always, there was an overabundance of food but that is just the Hawaiian way.  As everything was properly placed and more people arrive small satellite groups formed.  A low hum of chatter filled the very warm air.

I stood with a group of older men.  One asked how we I had known Ray.  I responded, “Oh, not that well, I suppose.”  As the conversation moved on I thought, how well can one not from that generation know an old soldier.  When he was young there was the Great Depression racked with sorrow and despair.  His youth was sacrificed to war.  His middle age was racked with constant change and riddled by scandal and controversy.  Only father time, I thought, and his fellow travelers can truly know an old soldier.  I turned to watch the honor guard practice a short distance away.

As people took seats and the service began I moved off to the side.  There I stood watching the cadre of disabled veterans from several wars honor a fallen comrade.  It didn’t make a difference if they knew Ray.  They honored him as they hoped others would honor them when they became “fallen comrades.”  A gentle ocean breeze caressed the mourners as the eulogies were reported.  The speakers were often ill at ease and fought to gain a rhythm in their speaking.  As my mind was about to drift, Carolyn walked to the podium.  Her manner was steady.  Her speaking was deliberate.  Her tone was soft and embracing.  Her words were introspective as she recounted their friendship and regaled Ray very accomplished life.  He was a young boy, orphaned in the Depression, who became, in every sense of the term, a Renaissance Man.  Virginia spoke but by that time everything had been said.  It was time for the formalities to begin.

If any in the group was becoming bored with the proceedings, the 21-gun salute changed that immediately.  While the salute was loud, the folding of the flag was soft and fraught with solemnity.  The presentation of the flag to Virginia was accompanied by a most eloquent speech delivered by a disabled veteran from the Vietnam War that capped the ceremony.  As a final show of respect for this old soldier, 21 white doves were released.  There was a slight gasp from the group as the doves swirled and moved off across the lava field.  People sat for a moment, either uncertain of what to do next or just exhausted by the pawl of death in the hot noonday sun.  After a time some began to move toward the mounds of food and the celebration began to creep toward its close.

A few small groups gathered on the fringe of the memorial area and talked in hushed tones.  A few stood near the food and they were a bit more animated.  After what seemed like a considerate amount of time I decided that it was time to bid farewell to Virginia.  She was standing with Carolyn.  I watched for a bit.  They would talk and then stare at the ground as if in contemplation.  Then they would look up, smile, say a few words and return their gaze to the ground.  I decide to insert myself during one of the gazing episodes.  I walked up and embraced Virginia.  I whispered that it was time for me to go.  She smiled and kissed my cheek.  I took a step back and turned to Carolyn.  I placed my hand on her bronze should, which had been the first time I had touched her.  “I hope that we will meet again” I blubbered.  She smiled and turned toward me.  “That would be nice” she responded.  I hesitated for a moment, smiled into her eyes and turned toward my truck.  It was such a beautiful day and this had been a beautiful event.  It had been a wonderful experience for me.