Waiting - A Personal Story
I didn't cry at my father's funeral – not even one tear. It was a wet, cold day when we buried him. Six men from Fort Knox, dressed in army uniforms, carried him from the hearse to the grave site, next to my brother. David died in a car wreck when he was 28, leaving a wife, a 4-year-old daughter and a 3-week-old son. Another man, wearing an army uniform, started the burial service with Taps, playing on a bugle. After the preacher said a few last words, each pallbearer walked in front of the casket and saluted my father. As the rain continued, they presented my mother with a precisely folded flag and the service concluded with a 21-gun salute. It was an awesome tribute to a man who had served in the Army for 21 years. My parents had been married for 46 years. For as long as I can remember, my mother worried about my dad's health and pleaded with him to see a doctor. My mother became unusually concerned one morning – they were drinking coffee and he was s...