with an American flag, neatly folded in the shape of a triangle. A brightly polished wooden casket—the eternal bed for a brave soldier—rested on the sturdy straps of a grave-lowering device.
Emily whispered, “Makes you wonder what happened. I mean, why they died and how old they were.”
“Yeah. When I see things like this, I think about the people who loved that person. How painful it must be for them to live with the loss and separation.” Ryan paused in silence for a moment, remembering the grief that followed the death of his father. “I’m reminded of my dad. I wish I had spent more time with him before he died.”
He had not talked much about his parents with Emily.
“Were you and your dad close?”
“Not really. He wasn’t much of a family man. I think that’s why I wound up an only child. Mom said he never wanted children.”
“What about your mom? Is she still alive?”
“Yeah. She lives near Atlanta. We have always been close…that is…until I left home.”
“What happened?”
“It’s mostly my fault. I’ve never been good at writing.” The thought of Keri popped into his mind. He had lost her for the same reason—not writing. “I guess I should call her more.”
Since leaving for the Academy, his communication with his mom had waned. During the six months since he’d met Emily, he had stopped writing her completely. He hadn’t even told her about Emily.
Deep down he knew she would not approve. He didn’t want to deal with her probing questions, starting with her family: “Ryan, does Emily come from a good family?” He could only imagine his response. “Not really, mom. Her dad is an alcoholic and her mom is a recluse. And I’m not sure, but I think her mom might even have a drug problem, nothing illegal, just the run-of-the-mill sedatives and tranquilizers.”
Next, she would surely ask if Emily had brothers or sisters. Again, he imagined himself telling her, “Her older sister is a stripper in Seattle, and her younger brother is in prison for selling drugs—the not-so-legal kind.”
He loved Emily and wanted to marry her regardless of what his mother thought.
“You should call her more often,” Emily said. “I’m sure she misses you.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sure the lack of contact has changed things…hard not to. Even though we both know we love each other, over time the relationship is destined to take-on a whole new dimension.”
Emily sat quietly in thought. He hoped his words made her think about how devastating a separation would be to their young relationship.
“Ready to go?” he asked, reaching for the key in the ignition. They needed to stay on schedule. Seeing an actual service in progress had provided an effect he had not expected.
“Ready,” she said.
“I always see life differently after I attend a funeral, or even when I visit a cemetery.”
“How can you not?” she asked.
“I think it’s important to be reminded of the brevity of life.”
After a moment of silence, she responded, “I agree.”
Hearing her words gave him hope.
He left the cemetery, and within minutes they were parked in the lot next to the visitor center.
He jumped out and raced around the car, hoping to open her door. She beat him to it. She looked up at him and jokingly said, “What’s a lady got to do around here to get a little respect these days?” They both laughed.
A cool breeze reminded him to grab the extra jacket.
“First, let’s go take a look at the lighthouse,” he said. He took her hand.
Not only did the lighthouse offer an unbelievable 360-degree view from the highest point on the peninsula—422 feet above the water—it was his second visual illustration.
As they walked up the paved pathway to the lighthouse, he heard the roar of a military jet departing from the North Island Naval Air Station, just below Point Loma on the tip of Coronado Island. He turned, watching it climb-out over the Pacific.
“You gonna miss it?” Emily
Emily whispered, “Makes you wonder what happened. I mean, why they died and how old they were.”
“Yeah. When I see things like this, I think about the people who loved that person. How painful it must be for them to live with the loss and separation.” Ryan paused in silence for a moment, remembering the grief that followed the death of his father. “I’m reminded of my dad. I wish I had spent more time with him before he died.”
He had not talked much about his parents with Emily.
“Were you and your dad close?”
“Not really. He wasn’t much of a family man. I think that’s why I wound up an only child. Mom said he never wanted children.”
“What about your mom? Is she still alive?”
“Yeah. She lives near Atlanta. We have always been close…that is…until I left home.”
“What happened?”
“It’s mostly my fault. I’ve never been good at writing.” The thought of Keri popped into his mind. He had lost her for the same reason—not writing. “I guess I should call her more.”
Since leaving for the Academy, his communication with his mom had waned. During the six months since he’d met Emily, he had stopped writing her completely. He hadn’t even told her about Emily.
Deep down he knew she would not approve. He didn’t want to deal with her probing questions, starting with her family: “Ryan, does Emily come from a good family?” He could only imagine his response. “Not really, mom. Her dad is an alcoholic and her mom is a recluse. And I’m not sure, but I think her mom might even have a drug problem, nothing illegal, just the run-of-the-mill sedatives and tranquilizers.”
Next, she would surely ask if Emily had brothers or sisters. Again, he imagined himself telling her, “Her older sister is a stripper in Seattle, and her younger brother is in prison for selling drugs—the not-so-legal kind.”
He loved Emily and wanted to marry her regardless of what his mother thought.
“You should call her more often,” Emily said. “I’m sure she misses you.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sure the lack of contact has changed things…hard not to. Even though we both know we love each other, over time the relationship is destined to take-on a whole new dimension.”
Emily sat quietly in thought. He hoped his words made her think about how devastating a separation would be to their young relationship.
“Ready to go?” he asked, reaching for the key in the ignition. They needed to stay on schedule. Seeing an actual service in progress had provided an effect he had not expected.
“Ready,” she said.
“I always see life differently after I attend a funeral, or even when I visit a cemetery.”
“How can you not?” she asked.
“I think it’s important to be reminded of the brevity of life.”
After a moment of silence, she responded, “I agree.”
Hearing her words gave him hope.
He left the cemetery, and within minutes they were parked in the lot next to the visitor center.
He jumped out and raced around the car, hoping to open her door. She beat him to it. She looked up at him and jokingly said, “What’s a lady got to do around here to get a little respect these days?” They both laughed.
A cool breeze reminded him to grab the extra jacket.
“First, let’s go take a look at the lighthouse,” he said. He took her hand.
Not only did the lighthouse offer an unbelievable 360-degree view from the highest point on the peninsula—422 feet above the water—it was his second visual illustration.
As they walked up the paved pathway to the lighthouse, he heard the roar of a military jet departing from the North Island Naval Air Station, just below Point Loma on the tip of Coronado Island. He turned, watching it climb-out over the Pacific.
“You gonna miss it?” Emily
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