A trumpet

Monday morning felt as though it started like any other but I knew that the day would be one burned into my memory forever. We woke up at 6:30am, took our showers, had breakfast and got dressed... normal so far, right? But this was not normal because we were preparing ourselves to go to church to celebrate the life of one truly amazing man, my grandfather.

We arrived at the church. We went through the motions of saying our hello's and talking with some people we see weekly and others that we don't see often enough. B was an amazing little boy. We held him during the wake - fed him Cheerios, his milk and played with his puppy. Then we were informed that the service would start in 10 minutes. I felt prepared for what was to come {at least I thought I was prepared}.

I sat down on the front pew of the church. I was holding B and sitting next to Daddy... I felt rather comforted and secure. My younger sister struggled through tears and overwhelming emotions to read a poem. My older sister put together a spoken tribute of sorts from the grandchildren with our memories. We sang Holy, Holy, Holy and B tried to sing along with us (it was the cutest thing ever!). Daddy took B to our car because he needed a nap. I felt as though my comforts were taken away from me and I was taken back to my dad's memorial service.

My dad died very tragically and suddenly in December 2006. His memorial service was in the same church. I sat in the same pew... almost in the same exact spot. One of the funeral arrangements for my grandfather was almost identical to the one we had for my dad - the flowers were a little different but the size and colors, right down to the massive orange ribbon, were the same. I began to zone out. It was a lot to handle. These memories were flooded with the memory of kissing my grandfather for the last time around 4am on Friday, August 14. Again, I was very strong until that moment. When I kissed him farewell, I was brought back to the very day I kissed my dad farewell (albeit different terms - I said farewell to my father in a morgue while he laid on the table draped in a white sheet with only his face and left arm visible for us to touch). Their skin felt the same - very thick and cool - the softness and plumpness were gone.

We left the church and I felt better. We arrived at the cemetery and drove a long winding path to the back where the mausoleum is. Everyone piled out of their cars and waited for his American flag covered coffin to be taken out of the hearse. Two Army soldiers saluted his coffin as the pallbearers brought it inside. The crowd very solemnly followed behind it and either took the elevator or stairs to the second floor. It was hot and very humid. The air smelled very musky. We all gathered in the hallway where my grandfather would be laid to rest - top left corner of the wall on the right side of the hallway, with my grandmother.

The pastor spoke and then one of the soldiers stepped outside on to the fire escape and lifted his very shiny, silver trumpet. I lost it at this point. Hearing that trumpeter belt out Taps was just too much for me. I looked down at my sweet baby boy laying in his stroller and I cried quietly. I couldn't believe that this was really the end. I continued to cry while watching the most beautiful flag folding ceremony I've ever witnessed. The tears started to flow harder when I watched them hand the flag to my aunt, his youngest daughter. Finality.

I know that he is in a much better place... one that we can only long to be in one day, but that doesn't change how much we miss him. I will never forget the last few days I was able to spend with him. The last time I heard his sweet voice was that Tuesday. I went in his room and said "Popi, look who is here to see you." And amazingly, he opened his eyes. The room was filled with happiness as he smiled from ear-to-ear realizing that I was holding B. He reach his arms out to hug Brice. I leaned in with B and Popi gave him a kiss on his cheek and he said "I miss you." I stood back up and went to ask how he was feeling and his eyes rolled back as he went back to sleep. That was my last verbal interaction with him. I will treasure that memory. Forever.