Saying Goodbye To A Good Man

Yesterday our small town said goodbye to a good man.

He was one of our community’s few remaining World War II veterans.  He was 92 years old, and would have turned 93 in September.  He was a Bronze Star recipient, and had been awarded the Purple Heart.  He was also one of the few remaining former WWII POW’s in the country.  He was captured during the Battle of the Bulge and spent from December 1944 until April 1945 in the captivity of the German army during one of the coldest European winters on record.  He barely survived the cold and starvation, spent a month in a London hospital, and then came home, back to the small town of his youth, where he became a home builder, a sign painter, a master cabinet builder, and a gifted watercolor artist.

He was also my father.

We had a simple graveside service.  Our pastor spoke a few words of comfort and told of how people all over town kept saying the same things about him:  “he was a good man,” “we’ve lost a great man.”

He was a great man.  He was quiet in his speech, honest in all his dealings, funny in that unexpected way that some people have, and made a good enough living for his family that my parents were never in debt to anyone.  We didn’t have every luxury available, but I got braces, my sisters and I had piano lessons, (and a piano to play), and we had bicycles and horses to ride.  I treasure my childhood memories and am very aware that I am one of the lucky ones.

My father had not been well for the past two years.  It has been my greatest blessing to have been able to be here to help care for him, here at home.  He passed peacefully in his sleep early Thursday morning, in the home he built for my mom and himself.

God bless all those who have served, and who serve today.  I love our military.  The Army sent two young men to stand as honor guard for my dad, to play ‘Taps,” and to present our flag to my mother.  It was very moving for all of us.

Up until the very end, Daddy responded to Jack, the ‘pup’, when he wouldn’t respond to anything else.  He always reached out to pet Jack, and his eyes would seem to come back to life a little bit.  I am so grateful to God for His mercy.

Here is the post I wrote soon after Daddy fell ill.

Hug your parents and grandparents today if you can.  And thank a veteran.

Hooah.

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Tagged as: funeral, military tribute at veteran's funeral, WWII POW, WWII veterans