The director opened the double doors, then went up front to make an announcement.
Under my breath, I said “Forward, march.”
We split ways and met again at the front, one on either side of the casket.
Taps played, we saluted. Then my partner reached over the dead man’s body to retrieve the flag.
He brought it to me, we opened it, re-folded it crisply, then he turned, and marched away.
I prepared the flag for presentation to the next of kin, turned, and marched to him. I got down on one knee, extended the flag out in front of me and said:
“On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Navy, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honorable, and faithful service.”
It wasn’t until I heard my own voice that I realized how poorly I was hiding my emotions, and it didn’t make it better that the woman sitting next to kid in front of me totally lost it.
In fact, earlier, as soon as we entered the room, everyone inside started crying. The sounding of taps couldn’t drown out the sniffles and choked breathing that everyone had been trying to cover. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and my self-talk was to remain stoic.
They’re not all like this. In fact, most of the ones I do are for people who have lived a full life. Where the family comes together in a celebration of life, rather than a mourning of lost.
But for this one, though, the deceased was a family man in his 40’s. The story through the funeral home was that he died camping with his family. Went to bed one night, and didn’t wake up in the morning. Something to do with his heart.
And the next of kin? That was his son, maybe 8 years old. He held it together better than I did. Better than his mom did. After I gave him the flag he said “thank you”. While in his hands, I saluted the flag for a good 7 seconds and told him with as much sincerity as possible that I’m sorry for his loss. Then I took a step back, turned, and left him there. With a flag to remember his dad.
I held it together as best I could until I got to my car where I couldn’t help but shed a few solemn tears as I thought about my own children, and about how that kid now has to grow up without a dad.
Death is a Powerful Motivator
We’re all going to die. It’s one of the few things that I can guarantee you.
Death doesn’t have to be morbid, though. It is from death that life may go on. It’s really a beautiful connection. We should all become more comfortable talking about death, and more importantly, planning for it.
Use the inevitability of death as motivation to live your life. If you’re miserable, change it. If there’s something you really want to do, do it. Buckle down, stop worrying about what ‘they’ will think, or about what is socially ‘normal’. Live your damn life. It’s the only one you have, and in the scheme of things, it doesn’t really last very long.
Prolong the Experience with Risk Mitigation
I am so fortunate that, of all the bad decisions I’ve made over my life, none have cost me dearly. It took me a few decades and a couple dependent people for me to realize that I’m not actually invincible and I have finally come to terms with the fact that most of that ‘cool’ stuff is really downright stupid.
Most catastrophic events are usually a long string of relatively minor lapses of judgement that culminate in disaster. That long string that leads to disaster can be cut anywhere along it’s length with one good decision.
Here’s some friendly advice to prevent a chain of events from growing long enough to yield a disaster.
- Treat driving like it’s as risky as it actually is. The odds are that if you don’t die from old age, and you take care of your health, you’ll die in a car. When you drive, just drive. Texting, eating, talking on the phone, finding a podcast, whatever! Pull over to do all that other shit. When you’re driving, focus on driving.
- Don’t drink and drive. Period. Ever. Join me in my pledge to not have a sip of any beverage with alcohol prior to driving my kids.
- Wear protection. Ear pro, eye pro, helmet, chaps, steal toes, seat belt. It doesn’t matter what OSHA or your neighborhood cop says, do it because it’s smart.
- Eat only the best food on earth, don’t drink garbage and exercise your body.
- Wear sunscreen, hats, etc. Join me in my other pledge to never again get a sunburn on my body.
- Ultimately, be mindful, focus on safety, and don’t take stupid risks.
I’ve had these occasions where my mind triggers that something I’m doing just isn’t right. Stop. Look around. Turn off the saw. Ask the question. Any one of those simple steps can cut that chain to calamity.
If this doesn’t do it
It’s a little dramatic, it kinda sucks, but if the mental image of a boy receiving a flag to remember his father isn’t enough to motivate you to be smart with risk and respect the fragility of life, then maybe nothing will, and you have some legitimate self-work ahead of you.
Live your life, be smart, and get the most out of it.
-NHMan
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