“Nothing you wouldn’t have done for any of them.”
My jaw tics, and I sniff back the tears burning the back of my throat as I yank him into my chest. His palm comes down hard on my back.
“We love you, man.”
Releasing him, I look away, unable to string a sentence together. I drag my forefinger and thumb across my eyes and turn in time to meet my brothers in uniform on their approach.
A swift hug and teary thanks is all I can manage to my squad mates before the Pastor calls for the service to start.
I wanted a simple memorial. A few words from the minister, a prayer, the Honor Guard to do their thing, and that’s it.
“Norman didn’t attend church much after his Maggie passed,” the Pastor begins. “But the time I spent getting to know him by his wife’s side gives me the confidence to tell you they’ve been reunited and they’re with their son, Michael, in a place where there are no tears and no suffering. And, despite his grumbly facade”—a light chuckle rumbles through the crowd—“I have no doubt they’re smiling together as we speak.
“And it’s the joy I know they’re sharing in now that makes it easy for me to stand before you today with the message that though our hearts grieve—and grieve, they do—there remains an abounding hope on this side of eternity.”
I fold my hand into Hannah’s, gaze fixed on the flag draped over the table placedbefore us.
The Pastor opens his Bible and begins to read. “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.”
Hannah’s grip tightens in mine. I turn to meet her watery smile, lost in the memory of these words and all they’ve represented for me over the years. Words I know she’s carried with her too.
I lose track of the Pastor’s message after that. Before I know it, he recites his closing prayer and the Honor Guard moves into position. My Ranger comrades fall into line in the grass clearing in my periphery, brothers standing in solidarity. Chairs creak in the rows behind me, everyone in attendance following my lead as I rise to my feet.
Two uniformed soldiers flank either end of the flag draped table, standing at attention. Three more stationed on the lake’s shore in the distance, rifles at the ready, a military bugler alongside them.
A preparatory command echoes through the trees. With Hannah’s clutched in my left, I bring my right hand to my brow in salute, every other soldier and veteran doing the same.
“Ready!” Three rifleman manually chamber a blank round. “Aim!” Weapons raised. “Fire!”BANG!
A flock of birds retreat from the pine canopy overhead, wings stretched wide as they dip toward the water and up to the clouds.
“Ready! Aim! Fire!”BANG!
Hannah flinches and I grip her hand harder.
“Ready! Aim! Fire!”BANG!“Cease firing! Present Arms!”
The brass melody of “Taps” begins. Melancholy and peaceful, the tune lingers as a final goodbye to honor a man who served his country with valor. A final good night. Lights out at the end of an arduous battle, hard-fought. A life crossing into an eternal rest, well-earned.
Then, silence.
Utter quiet as the last note of the bugle fades on the wind and the soldiers pull the flag taut between them. Thirteen folds.
Long minutes with nothing but the breeze rustling the trees and the sweep of the soldiers’ white gloved hands over the starched fabric. None of it loud enough to cover the sound of my galloping heart.
I’ve sat witness to this ceremony countless times. I’ve stood in salute over the caskets of men who fought alongside me, offered my condolences to their parents, their siblings. Their children. I watched Momweep when the soldier passed the flag to her in honor of my dad’s service.
Somehow, I never fully processed until this moment what it means to be Pops’ only living next of kin. Not only that I’ll be on the receiving end of the flag, but also that a world without the best man I’ve ever known means I’m the last one left.
The last Shaw.
An unspeakable weight settles in my bones. I keep my eyes trained on the lake ahead to try and staunch the burn. Hannah knows. Mom knows. Two steady hands rest like anchors on my back as I fight to hold my composure.
My efforts are useless as the soldier approaches. I lower my gaze to the flag presented between his palms and the first tear slides down my cheek.
“On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Army, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.”
I drop my salute and accept the flag with a simple nod, sniffing back more tears.