. . . his mother and I buried our son. The details are not important. Not his branch of service, rank, the circumstances of his loss or where it happened. This diary is not just for him, but for all those who serve, have served and will serve in the future. This a tribute and memorial for a life gone too young. Parents should not have to bury their children, but it happens. It is also a tribute to those who serve as chaplains, honor guard, buglers and manage our National Cemeteries. His mother and I buried our son one year ago today.
I am sitting here looking at the three-cornered folded flag in its polished cherry wood case. A sandwich baggie holding 21 spent shells lies on the shelf above my desk. This is a scene in homes all across this great country, so I do not have any right to feel special. It was the life that is gone that was special. My heart is breaking, again. Anniversaries are hard.
Thanks to genealogical research and DNA records, we know that our son had a thousand year history of warriors in his genetic makeup. Some from my side and some from his mother's side of the family. That is also true of many families. At the memorial service, the chaplain said exactly the right things, but this is the comment that sticks in my mind: "Our comrade heard the call and he answered."
This is a memorial tribute to our son, but I am dedicating it to all the parents who have watched their children ride off on horseback, train, bus and airplane. In peacetime and during wars. It does not matter, they heard the call and went off to serve. Some as a lark, and some deadly serious, but they served. When there is a knock on your door at midnight it is never going to be good news. When I turned on the light and saw a uniform, my knees grew weak.
Remember the poignant scene from the movie Saving Private Ryan when Mrs. Ryan sinks down on the porch? That is too close to home.
We brought him home. During the time he was being returned to us, we went to the National Cemetery and met with one of the officials there. He was supportive and helpful to us. He helped with the paperwork, told us what we needed to do and scheduled the service. He told us the honor guard and bugler would be furnished at no cost to us. He also explained how the stone would be engraved and made sure he had the inscription written exactly as we wanted. I asked about having a bagpiper and was told that would be fine.
A Pipe Major we have known for years said he was honored that we were asking him to play. In meetings with the piper, we selected the music. I am going to share the three pipe tune selections we made.
The first tune the piper played was Amazing Grace, which is probably the most requested pipe tune ever. Below is a version of Amazing Grace that has special meaning. Our son spent time in Alaska and loved the Inuit people, their culture and especially the art. He talked often about the way the native people were treated, and was very concerned about the loss of their traditional way of life. The melting of sea ice, glaciers and loss of winter habitat is impacting the whole ecosystem of Alaska. He would call home when the northern lights were active and describe what he was seeing from his apartment deck. Everyone has heard Amazing Grace on the bagpipes, but this is a version sung in the Inuit language. As one might expect, this is hard for me to watch all the way through.
The second tune the piper played was Flowers of the Forest. This lament was written for the fallen at Flodden Field in 1513. It has special meaning for us because we know the DNA that ran in our son's veins is soaked into the soil at Flodden Field. A member of our own Highland Clan, John Skene of Halyard, composed the tune Flowres of the Forrest sometime between 1315-1325. A fragment of the original manuscript still exists after five hundred years. Flowers of the Forest is a very special piece of music. Many pipers will not play or practice it in a public place. It is reserved for memorials. The video below is piped and played by the Scots Guards.YouTube Video
For more information about Flowers of the Forest, here is a link to the history and lyrics of the tune. This will be played at the services for my wife and me. The third and final tune the piper played was Mull of Kintyre. Many think this is an old tune, but it is not. It was written about thirty years ago by Paul McCartney. It has become a staple at memorial services, especially for sailors. Listen carefully to the lyrics about the "mists rolling in from the sea." A mull is a bald mountain, and the Mull of Kintyre is a real place.
If you have never attended a military memorial service with Honors, it is hard to describe. You will find it to be the most intense half-hour of your life. Here is a brief video of the salute part of the service for a fallen hero that catches the power and poignancy of the experience. This is how it was at the service for our son.
Both our sons served with Honor Guard details, so this part of the ceremony was special for us. At the end, Taps was the hardest part. There is a kind of finality to Taps that grabs the soul and shakes it.
I leave the reader with two other tunes. The Minstrel Boy has been used in several movies, including Blackhawk Down. He sings of the minstrel boy who slings his harp on his shoulder and straps on his father's sword as he goes off to battle. The first two verses were originally written about two hundred years ago by Irish poet and songwriter Thomas Moore.
A third verse was added at the time of the Civil War, sometime in the 1860's, but is omitted in this version.
This is a song called Sgt. MacKenzie. it is sung by Joe Kilna MacKenzie of Clann an Drumma. Joe wrote this after he lost his wife to cancer and he was grieving. Sgt. MacKenzie was Joe's grandfather who fought with the Seaforth Highlanders in WW-I. He was killed while trying to protect a wounded comrade. You can hear Joe sing this in the movie We Were Soldiers. The piper heard is Donnie MacNeill, who now plays with the group Albannach. Our son knew Joe and Donnie, and liked them a lot.
His mother and I buried our son one year ago today.
If you have not visited a National Cemetery, please do so. These are holy places, places of great reverence. Look at the Gardens of Stone and think of our son and all the other sons and daughters who lie in such places. Walk among the stones and read the inscriptions. Some are funny, some sad, others are meaningful only to the family. But all are intensely personal statements left for the living.
To find your nearest National Cemetery, look here. We were told by the cemetery officials that we could receive a letter from the President suitable for framing. His Presidential Memorial Certificate is framed and sits on the mantel beside that folded flag in its three sided cherry wood case. One year ago today, his mother and I buried our son. May he rest in peace with his comrades in the Gardens of Stone. This is my first diary. I wanted to make this first effort substantial and to hopefully speak to the reader in a way that contributes to the quality of your life today. Thank you for reading.