Another row down and one over.
The breath left Ellie’s lungs.
Oh, my God.
Daniel Thomas Meeks
Captain
US Army
Iraq
Dec 15 1985
Oct 5 2013
Silver Star
Loving husband and son
Operation Enduring Freedom
Ellie knelt in front of his grave marker, the grass cool and damp against her bare knees. She ran her hand over the smooth marble and traced his name with her finger, tears blurring her vision. The headstone hadn’t been there on the day of his funeral service. She had never seen it in person.
How strange it was to think that his body had been here every day since then, under sun, stars, rain, and snow, while the world had moved on without him.
“Daniel and Daisy, look,” she said when she could talk. “This is your daddy’s grave. When his spirit went up to become an angel, his body was buried here. Can you tell your daddy hello so he knows you’re here?”
Daisy reached out and patted the marble as if to comfort it. “Hello.”
Daniel followed his sister’s lead, doing the same. “Hello.”
“Dan, here they are—your twins. They’re three now. You wouldn’t believe how sweet and smart they are. Daniel looks just like you. Everyone says so. I named him Daniel Otis. I just couldn’t name him Otis Henry. Sorry. Daisy has the name you picked for her—Daisy Mae.”
“I’m Daisy Mae,” Daisy said.
“Yes, sweetie, you are.” Ellie reached into her handbag and took out the bag of things that people in Scarlet Springs had put together for Dan. “I brought some things—a little care package from home.”
And for a moment it was too much, tears spilling down her cheeks.
A big hand came to rest on her shoulder, gave her a gentle squeeze, Jesse standing behind her now, giving her his support.
She wiped the tears off her face, reached into the bag, and pulled out a photo of Denver’s football team. “Austin and Eric wanted you to have this photo from our last Super Bowl win. They’re both married now. Austin married Lexi like we always thought he would. They have an adorable baby girl. She has Lexi’s red hair.”
Ellie reached into the bag again, pulled out a tiny bottle of scotch. “Caribou Joe from Knockers sent a shot. Remember him? Joe Moffat? He tells me I have to pour it out like they did in the old days, so get ready.”
She opened the little bottle and poured the amber liquid onto the grass where it met the marble, a libation for a fallen warrior.
“Rose sent a sage candle.” She pulled it together with matches out of the bag and lit it, the breeze making the flame flutter, the faint scent of sage rising in the air. “She said something about it purifying this space and freeing your soul.”
Ellie laughed at that, then took out her gift to him. “I brought pictures of Daisy and Daniel. I wanted you to be able to keep these.”
She put double-sided tape on the back of the photos, which were laminated to protect them from the weather. Then she let the kids stick their pictures on the back of the headstone one at a time. “Good job. Now your daddy can keep pictures of you with him.”
“Can my daddy see me?” Daisy asked.
Ellie didn’t know for certain, but what could she say? “Yes, sweetie.”