I'm not sure if you, my readers actually understand, what it's like to be a part of the final farewell to a warrior. It seems all too often I get the call. A funeral director on the phone says, "so and so has died". He was a WWII, Korean War, Viet Nam, Iraq, or Afghanistan. I hate hearing he was !!! Our Veterans are the the only thing we have to hold to our hearts as the ones who've stood for our freedom.
Today, in my little small town, which could be any body's town, a life long member of the VFW, and the American Legion, as well as a life long member of his local "Volunteer" Fire Department, had passed away, and services were pending. I'm pretty sure most of you don't know how beautiful a funeral is with full military honors, but suffice to say nothing I've found in my life has met that merit. .
A beautiful. fully dressed fire truck was placed in front of the hurse at the funeral home. We, went in and did the obligatory walk through, signed the guest book, saluted and prayed for our soldier, and focused our attention on the American Flag that draped the coffin of our fallen comrade.
Our Mission is to follow the flag, our Nations autograph, at the funeral home, and then to church, and to the warriors final resting place. But today, something was different.
As I stood on the firing line, with my weapon locked, cocked, and ready to fire, My thoughts drifted to another time, One year prior, when these same soldiers, came to my aid, as well as that of my family, and sent my father to his reward, as a veteran, a husband, and a father. The Officer of the day barked the commands, and I in turn obeyed, But please... think no less of me for today, although a stranger I buried......I half to say....... I miss you Dad !!!
David W. Emerick