My grandfather fought in World War II, like so many other grandfathers did. He didn't talk about it a lot, tho he did tell the story about when he went AWOL in Lichtenstein after getting separated from his platoon because the family that helped him out had really good food.
When he passed away about 12 years ago, I was presented with the flag that covered his casket. I'll be honest, I didn't think I should have been given that flag.
While I had a great relationship with my grandfather; my sister, my father and my uncle should have been given that honor and make no mistake, I consider it an honor. My father and my uncle should be obvious candidates to have received the flag. I truly believed my sister had a better relationship with my grandfather. I can't say why I feel that way, but I do, and it's ok with me.
When I was asked to receive the flag, I said yes. Part of it was because I was standing in a chapel minutes before my grandfather's service and part of it was because I didn't really think about it. I remember asking my sister to stand next to me as they folded the flag and presented it, and of course she did.
It wasn't until I got home with the flag that I started to think that my grandfather would have rather had my sister get the flag. This killed me, I mean it made me sick to my stomach. I would think this so many times for so many years, but I never did anything about it. I wasn't bothered that he would have chosen my sister to get the flag, he loved me dearly, I was bothered that I didn't suggest it. That's where my guilt came from.
Now don't feel bad for me, ever really, because this memory has given me two intertwining lessons that give me comfort during times of death.
The first is that when your loved one is gone, it isn't about them anymore, it's about the ones they are leaving behind. My grandfather was gone, he left children, grandchildren and other family behind. In my opinion, the funeral and all that follows should be about comforting them and making it easy on them. I shouldn't have felt any guilt about how my grandfather would have felt about who got the flag, because lets face it, he wasn't the one handing it out.
I used this lesson when my father died. My mother was distraught, obviously understandable, and was trying to figure out the details of my father's funeral. She was spinning around like my son after he's had too much sugar. She was so caught up in doing what she thought my father would have wanted, or what his friends from the church would have wanted, that she wasn't thinking about what she wanted or needed. I remember looking at her and saying "It isn't about dad anymore, it's about you. What's going to be easier for you?" She made the right choices for her, and I was very proud of her for it.
The second lesson is that actions speak louder than words. Sure you've heard that a million times, but I didn't really understand it or notice it until looking back at that day. Some quick background, my father and I didn't really have a good relationship growing up. There was a lot of yelling, the occasional shoving, and a lot of ignoring. I really didn't know if he liked me, let alone loved me. Now I know we tend to change opinions on people after they are gone, usually for the better, but I think sometimes we just need some space to gain clarity. Well you aren't going to get more space than when somebody dies.
So looking back at the flag moment, I saw an action that spoke louder than any words my father ever yelled at me. He chose me to receive his father's flag. He could have done it, he could have asked his brother or he could have asked his daughter, but he didn't. He told me it was because he knew I had a special relationship with my grandfather. Now whether that was true or not, it was how he perceived it. So in his mind I had a special relationship and he wanted to give me and his father something, one last moment as I see it. That is a loud action.
Thank you to all those that are serving and have served!
M
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