This Is What I Know
|
|
Funerals
November 26, 2005
Cpl. Rogers funeral was yesterday. It was a beautiful thing, in a beautiful church. His best friend (also a Marine) had been asked by the family to escort the body home, and he was allowed to do that. He also spoke. He told wonderful, laughing stories about Jeffry - which made me cry, of course. {February 18, 2006: Ed. Note. One story he told has really stuck with me. It seems that when Cpl. Rogers was a child, he wasn’t allowed to call names - he wasn’t allowed to call people “stupid”. So, he called them “purple”. I love that! I do that myself now, and every time I do, I think of Jeffry.}
There were about 7 Oklahoma Marine Moms there, and we were expected, since many of us know Cpl. Rogers' Mom, so we had a special place to sit. I was glad I could be there, to support her and the other Marine Moms, and you. And I was grateful for the company of the other Moms. (One of them had us all at her house, and fixed us lunch - I hope all Marine Moms are as sweet as the ones in Oklahoma - and as tough!) Marines make me cry, tho. Especially the one who sat with the family, because I'd just read that whole piece about Casualty Assistance Officers. {sigh}. I love Marines.
Several of the OK Moms' sons are in Iraq as I write - and it's those Moms who impress me, because they went to show their support. (I understand there were 'protesters' there, but I didn't see them, and they weren't allowed up the hill to the church. I understand from the other Moms that all the TV cameras were on them - at the bottom of the hill. Whatever! Maybe some day I'll tell you what my K said in our IM last night - except, probably, you already know! LOL!)
One of the Moms came all the way from Marietta - which is in the southern part of the state, and she told me, "I'm going - If something happens to Jon, I'd expect you to come to me, so I will go to her." Damn straight! (One of the things my K and I have talked about since July's homecoming, are these 'hard' things, and I'm grateful I can ask him. I'm also grateful he can answer me!)
We went in the procession to the gravesite, and watched while the Marines folded the flag, and a real person, on a real bugle, played "Taps". It made me cry to see him, tho. But it was as beautiful as it could be, considering. (Cpl. Rogers was their only child - which isn't to say that makes it harder. There is no good way to lose a child, or so I imagine.)
This morning early I drove south to Apache, Oklahoma, to Cpl. Ware's services. I have never driven that part of the state before, and I got lost once (which is really hard to do, considering there is nothing out there.) I stopped at a convenience store, and nobody knew where Apache, OK was. I said, "Do you know Chickasha?" and they did. I said, "If you can get me back on 44 to Chickasha, I'll find Apache." They were glad to do that, and gave me money for the toll roads. (Of course, there are toll roads in OK - and I never carry cash!) They were very nice about it though, and I said, "Thank you. I'll pay it forward." and the young woman loved that. (She couldn't give me cash on my debit card - she said she wasn't 'allowed' - I said, "Well, let's not break any rules today.") so she gave me money out of her own purse! Quarters, mostly. It was nice of her. I was afraid I'd be late, but I'd been on the cell with Kathy, and we decided late was better than nothing. (Only, I wasn't very late.)
When I finally got to Apache, which is a tiny place, I could see law enforcement, and I went where they were. They were polite, but clear - "Are you family, or friend?" I said, "Friend. I'm the Mom of a Marine." so they let me drive in. But they didn't smile.
The services were very different, and longer. They were held at the Comanche Nation Community Center. Cpl. Ware was a Kiowa. There were no Marine Corps League people there, that I saw, but there were lots of Marines - some with grey hair. They talked a lot about Cpl. Ware, and about his faith - and occasionally, the moderator would say a name, and that person would sing. From his or her seat - not in a language I understand - but I loved it. It was powerful, and true.
At one point, Kathy was 'introduced' and she did very well. She had the condolence book to present. She said, "I didn't know I'd be asked to speak." but then she spoke, and she was perfect. Of course she cried. (Her son is in Iraq.) But that was perfect, too.
Everyone I met was really nice. We didn't go in the procession this time. The cemetery was about 20 miles from there. But I do have to tell you of one person who spoke. He said, "I know Indians do whatever they want, but the family has requested that you stay in the procession while Joshua's Mom takes him past where he grew up. So, let's do what she asks!" {they laughed} and "You may have heard there would be protesters here. Well, the tribal police and the Oklahoma State Police pointed them to the county line, and told them not to stop there. You will see, they are NOT here." We all cheered.
When I left, I stopped and spoke to the officers at the corner. "Thanks, guys." Then they smiled, and said, "You're welcome."
We stand in the blood of angels. ALL of us.
Me |