Excerpt: Prized Possession

From 7 Days:

I can’t quite bring myself to display it. Yet. Maybe it’s because I don’t have the right showcase for it. Maybe I just haven’t gotten around to it. Or maybe I just don’t want the daily reminder that he’s gone.

I can count the number of times my father spoke of his days in Vietnam on one hand. He joined the Navy to avoid being drafted into the Army, like many 18-22-year-old guys of the late sixties. He was rewarded by not having to serve on the front lines and suffer the way many Vietnam Vets did. At least, that’s my perception of it. As for my father’s view, he held silent the details of his experiences at sea, his experiences at war. And his silence held the details of what those years meant to him, and how they might have shaped him.

My father’s funeral brought clarity to me. But not in the way I thought it would. One Petty Officer’s actions and emotions revealed what may have very well been my father’s own emotions about serving in the United States Navy.

A Seaman Apprentice and a Petty Officer Second Class folded the flag draped over my father’s—I still have a hard time with whichever word comes next. Pine box. Casket. Coffin. Any and all of which mean he’s dead. No getting around it. The flag was draped over my father’s coffin.

The flag folding ceremony was held after Taps was played. While the notes of Taps coming from the trumpet brought tears to my eyes and I was awed at the sight of the flag being folded so meticulously and with such care, neither of those events are what stand out. It was the flag being handed to me.

The Petty Officer in pressed black dress uniform, sailor collar caped over his broad shoulders. His shiny black shoes. His crisp white gloves. The precise movements in his march towards me. The flag sandwiched between his hand on top and the other beneath. His sense of gratitude in transferring the flag from his hands to mine.

The Petty Officer said something to me as I we both held the flag in transference. My hands on the flag, I looked him in the eye, unable to hear a word he said. And then I focused on his eyes. I noticed welled up tears in them. His words became loud and clear.

"Please accept this flag in honor of your father’s great service to this country. I am truly sorry for your loss."

His voice quivered slightly, and I recognized something immediately. Emotion. Unequivocal, raw emotion. And in an instant I felt closer to my father. There was an immediate understanding of the bond that had been created between this man and my father, simply by being a part of this brotherhood I had never even tried to understand. I'm not sure he could have explained it, anyway.

These men had been trained in the same way. With the same standards, the same faith, the same expectations, the same humility, the same honor. If I had any ill feelings about the military, they were gone with this Petty Officer’s tears. These men were brothers, and they had never even met. There was no doubt in my mind the sincerity with which the Petty Officer’s words were spoken and tears fell. I began to understand just how human we all are. And I began to understand my father, if just a little bit more, and found comfort in the prized possession I held in my hands.