
Riverside National Cemetery participates in the Flag for Every Hero program
[Reblogged from a few years back in honor of Memorial Day]
Seriously? We were supposed to sum up their lives in twenty-two characters (including spaces and punctuation)?
“What do you want on the headstone?”
The funeral director was going down a list of decisions we needed to make for my father’s funeral, and I thought I was doing fine until that one. As a veteran, my father had arranged to be buried with my mother at the National Cemetery in nearby Riverside, California. In fact, my parents had already made almost all the arrangements, so we didn’t have that much to decide. Except… “The National Cemetery only allows names, dates, and a twenty-two-character inscription.”
Seriously? We were supposed to sum up their lives in twenty-two characters (including spaces and punctuation)?
You have to understand. I have nine brothers and sisters. That means ten different opinions on what those twenty-two letters could contain. At first, we went for historical accuracy—“Those damn kids!”. Then a score card—“1 wife+10 kids=32 grands”. We tried channeling my mother’s… unique… humor—“OK boys, let her RIP”. We even thought about the texting approach—“(-<-) & shhh @ last”.
It wasn’t that we hadn’t thought about our parents’ legacy. In fact, just days before he died I read my Veterans Day blog post “Do You Know A Hero?” to my father. The last time I saw him smile was when I called him my hero.
With both Memorial Day and Father’s Day coming up for the first time without my parents, I was thinking about that grave and the beautiful cemetery around it. My brother just sent me a picture of the headstone, with the sedately accurate 22-character sum of their legacy “Welcomed Laughed Loved”. I pictured him there, surrounded by fellow veterans. This Memorial Day, I’m so grateful, once again, for my father and all those who answered their country’s call. And especially, I’d like to thank those who gave up their lives so that others could have their family members long enough to argue about those twenty-two letters.
So how do you say hero in twenty-two characters? In Riverside National Cemetery, it’s written two hundred thousand ways.
Beautiful tribute to your father barb. Does the cemetery have a reason why they only allow 22 characters?
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It is a National Cemetery for veterans. Instead of individual headstones, each grave is marked by a plaque set into the ground.
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Wish I’d met your dad.
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I think he and your dad would have had a great time together!
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You’re making me tear up.
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Such a poignant post, Barb – yet, as always, underlined with your humour. There must have been lots of laughter in your house when growing up. And I bet it was noisy as well!
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I remember laughing a lot, and also that visitors seemed overwhelmed by the noise. To us, carrying on a minimum of three conversations at once—all at top decibels—seemed perfectly normal.
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hahaha!! Funnily enough I can believe that!.
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wonderful tribute to your father –
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Those are 22 wonderful letters, Barb!
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Lovely tribute Barb! It is hard to imagine having so many siblings. For me there was a half-sister ten years older with whom there never was a relationship. Long story so you shall have to wait for the book…
I left Riverside a few decades ago.
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A good post to refresh. I am facing my first father’s day without my father to celebrate. Instead, we are planning his long-postponed memorial dinner. (He opposed us having any kind of service. Claimed it was a waste of money.) In fact, if my father had opted for a headstone instead of scattering his ashes, it probably would have read: “Damned Fool Waste!”
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My condolences on your loss. Your father sounds like quite a character and I know how much he must be missed.
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To be honest, he is missed in the sense that I am startled to realize he is gone. We lived in different states for most of my adult life. So, part of me feels he is still existing in an alternate dimension I just can’t access. I’m jolted into awareness when I think of sharing an idea or just find something funny that would have made him laugh. It’s the closest I have come to experiencing a time-space distortion described in science fiction. They always sounded much cooler in alien settings with starship captains and new worlds to explore.
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My grandmother told me she used to pretend my grandfather was on a business trip to Pittsburgh.
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I have to wonder if the Board of Tourism for Pittsburgh knows it is considered to be the Realm of the Afterlife?
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