A life well lived

Last weekend a beloved friend of our family passed away at the grand age of 94.  He was tall, lean and gave great hugs.  A Colonel in the United States Army, he lived a life full of success, but also tragedy.  He outlived his first wife and his only son, but found love again later in life with one of my mother-in-law's best friends.  Since neither had any living family, our Smith family adopted them, you might say.  All major holidays and family celebrations have been spent with Dot and Ed right beside us. 

Ed was one of the "Greatest Generation," rare jewels in the nation's crown.  As this generation of men and women pass on, we are losing national treasures.  My Grandmother Nettie once said to me, "We don't grow them like that anymore."  She was right.  We don't. 

Last Wednesday we said a final goodbye to Ed's exhausted body.  He lived every ounce of life available in his soul's shell.  As we drove through Maple Hill Cemetery to Ed's burial plot, we read the grave markers.  John said, "Look at all the different last names."  I watched as the gray stones slowly passed by my window and thought, "Look at all the different lives, stories and families." 

The late morning sun shone warm on the mid-August day.  It was blazing hot the previous week, but on this day God smiled on us with cooler temperatures and a slight summer breeze.  One by one Ed's elderly friends made their way to the graveside tent.  Some came with canes and some with walkers, even one with a little chair on wheels, but they came.  

TAPS drifted through the air as a military musician gave tribute to our friend.  Soldiers quietly and with dignity folded the American flag that had been draped on Ed's casket. One soldier bowed on one knee in front of Dot, gently placing the perfectly folded fag in her frail, pale hands.  Looking into her eyes he said, "On behalf of the President, the United States Army, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a token of appreciation for your loved one's honorable and faithful service." 

The lump in my throat grew large and the fat, juicy tears in my eyes balanced on my eyelashes making little prisms of colorful lights as as I tried to focus on Ed's gray metal casket.  

I had to keep my emotions under control because I was asked to sing solo and acapella  "God of our Fathers", our national hymn. The Pastor with his army haircut and black horned rimmed glasses said a few fitting words from the "Book of Common Worship".  He spoke of Ed's service and love of life.  We laughed a bit, cried a bit and felt a peaceful comfort settle all around the graveside.  The peace that passes all understanding is softer than any baby's blanket.    

At the end of the short service, I sang "Amazing Grace" and the Pastor said a prayer.  

Ed's life is over here on this earth. I am reminded of the statement my angel spoke to me in a dream after Angie slipped away from us.  "A life well lived is a sacred echo."  

Rest in peace, my friend.  We will enjoy your echo for many years to come.