Tribute

"I never heard Melvin say a bad word, nor a bad word about anybody," Howard remarked in his eulogy to his friend at the graveside services today.  "He was a kind and caring man," he went on.  I reflected on the times we visited Melvin in the nursing home where he was suffering from Alzheimer's, that his manner was always gracious and polite, even though he may not have recalled who we were.  "You all come back, now," he would smile as we took our leave after singing to him while my husband played the guitar.

As a minister, Howard was speaking at the 85-year-old's funeral.  Not many people were there, since the few relatives they had were scattered across the country.  However, with the warm and engaging memorial he was giving, my preacher husband made us forget the cold weather and picture the younger, happier days when we had known the departed, whose widow in the row of chairs in the funeral tent  was leaning in to hear his words.

When he had finished speaking, Howard strummed the guitar and led in singing Amazing Grace.  The voices lifted sweetly in the open air as the pastor came forward to pray, comfort and lead in the Lord's Prayer.

After all the words had been said, the two military personnel who had been standing at attention outside the shelter saluted, turned, and one began playing the plaintive notes of taps, her trumpet a sharp silhouette against the dark clouds behind her.

In military cadence, the uniformed pair walked in single file toward the flag-draped casket, removed the constraining band and snapped the flag smartly above it. Then in perfect synchrony, they carried it horizontally to halt in front of the widow. A mesmerizing  ceremony followed as the colors were transformed  into a triangle of 13 folds, the end tucked snugly into a firm, final triangle before the presentation to the bereaved mourner.

The young female soldier knelt respectfully on one knee before her and said in a soft, clear voice, "Ma'am, on behalf of a grateful nation, may I present this flag as a token of appreciation for the honorable and faithful service your loved one has rendered this nation."  You could have heard a pin drop as we sat in awe at the solemnity of the moment.

The casket was opened, and  a bent, stooped, solitary figure kissed her fingertips and pressed them to his lips, kissing him again on the cheek and the top of his head, bidding her husband farewell.  From somewhere a voice began quietly singing.  The strains of "I'll meet you in the morning, by the bright riverside," rose outside the tent as others, facing the open bier, joined in with "You'll know me in the morning by the smile that I wear, in that city that's built foursquare." 

It had been an intimate, meaningful service, a closure for the "long goodbye" of Alzheimer's that clouded the last several years.  The clouds parted, and the sun began shining as we left the cemetery, knowing that a soldier had gone home where he would have no problem in recognizing anyone!