Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain;
I am the gentle Autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush.
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there;
I did not die.
-More-
Another Vietnam veteran died Thursday morning from cancer, a cancer "presumed" by the Veterans Administration to have been caused by exposure to Agent Orange. He left a wife, a teenage daughter, and another family, mine - he was always considered the "other brother" by us.
He was tall, had red hair and the map of Ireland stamped on his face. Larry was a Democrat through and through, and served as campaign manager whenever my brother ran for office. Like my brothers, he tortured me when I was a kid; I was teased so mercilessly that my brothers refer to my childhood as my "POW" period. I still hear him laughing, I still hear him yelling (though he rarely lost his temper).
I remember the Halloween before Election Day, when my Dad was running for re-election. It had been a rather nasty campaign. After much beer, it was decided that a certain group of lawn signs had to be taken down, and so they were.
Only Larry got caught; someone actually saw him take the sign, and yelled. Larry, sheepishly, put it back.
He was drafted and sent to Vietnam. He didn't talk much about it when he got back. Life just seemed to return to normal, as if he had never been gone. There were campaigns, and parties. There was good-natured political sniping at me (only because he knew he could get my goat, since I had been a target since I was three). He had a wife, then a daughter, and finally, the house that he wanted. He was a pallbearer at our funerals - including the day of my aunt's funeral, when the power went out, and the undertaker opened the door with a candlelabra casting shadows on his face. Larry let out a scream, and I couldn't stop laughing.
But now and then, the experience of Vietnam would come back. He marched with other Vietnam veterans in New York City in 1985, jubiliantly, waving to the cheering crowds. He cheered for Westmoreland because he thought the man had gotten a bad rap, and I didn't argue with him. He went to the Memorial in DC.
And then, out of nowhere, he became very sick. A rare cancer tied to exposure to Agent Orange. He had a surgery and chemo, and we all hoped for the best. Then another surgery, and more chemo. During all this time, he tried to be the same guy we all knew and loved. But one day, he told me what would happen "if this thing kills me" - the benefits he received and his family would receive from the VA. He never got a dime out of the Agent Orange settlement, since he was not symptomatic then. Sick as he was, he still had his sense of humor - on bad days, he said he would take two "perkies" (Percocet) and watch the Beverly Hillbillies.
His daughter graduated from high school just a few days ago, and he was there for her party. I remember thinking he was hanging on for her. There was talk of another surgery, an experimental chemo....
But that was not to be.
But he did not die. We will all remember. I will never forget that the United States government sent him to fight a war it couldn't win, and dropped a deadly mix of defoliant on the country he was in. I will never forget that the government knew of the dangers at that time, but ignored them. No warning labels on the barrels. No notice given to those troops who inhaled it, touched it. I will never forget that the US government denied that Agent Orange was causing cancer, respiratory ailments, birth defects in children. I will never forget that they relied on fraudulent studies, ignored laws passed to give relief and benefits to veterans, gave cursory checkups, while the veterans died one by one, their families not knowing or understanding what made them so sick, what was causing them to die. I will never forget Admiral Zumwalt who gave an order to spray the agent, and then watched his own son die from it - from then on, he was a tireless advocate for the truth.
And I won't forget Larry, because he did not die.