A Somber Sea of Purple and Black

On a Tuesday morning, before the sun had even thought of hitting the snooze alarm, tired men and women gathered together and exchanged the typical morning greetings. Everyone wearing his favorite color – purple. Purple ties, skirts, shirts and dresses. Coffee cups from the few open shops steamed and warmed chilly hands. Police officers from county and state huddled and discussed logical routes and plans of travel. 

“Place this on your rearview mirror and turn your brights on,” she said as I was handed the bright orange sign. I did as I was instructed, turned the key and popped in a CD. A nice mix of Mark Broussard, Krista Detor and a few other favorites. Smooth mellow sounds for the emotional day that was unfolding.

I looked through my window while singing softly just in time to see his grandmother smile and wave vigorously to me from the passenger seat of their SUV. I relished in the fact that she lit up when she saw me. For days she had told her friends a plenty that I was her, “Red Cross Buddy.” I knew hugs and kisses on my cheek were going to find me soon. As she walked across the parking lot, I stepped from my truck and smiled at her.

“Oh hi Sweetie!!” she said as she took my face in her hands and kissed my cheek. I hugged her and asked how she was. As usual, she told me she was going to be okay and patted my hands as if to reassure me – immune to the idea that I, in fact, was actually there to comfort her. I looked at her beautiful face of eighty-three years and realized I have liked her from the second she first answered her phone weeks before.

Thirty minutes passed and strained conversations subsided as we all climbed into our vehicles to begin the long drive to Virginia. As car after car pulled out in a line, the motorcycle police turned on their LED lights and guided us as we weaved in and out of the waking highways. Traffic was stopped by the very calculated dance moves of these escorts with lights and now sirens too. I have to say, as I drove in my marked Red Cross vehicle in this line – following two motorcyclists from the Patriot Guard with large flags flying behind them, it was a bit surreal.

I watched as other motorists put together what they were seeing and read their faces as they lowered their heads a little.

The drive lasted nearly two hours even with the rolling motorcade and eventually pulled us straight into the heart of downtown Washington, D.C. I was surprised we had taken this route considering it was rush hour and the Maryland police were continuing to shut down intersections, roads and crosswalks to allow us uninterrupted access to our final destination. Eventually, we pulled around a corner… slowed our pace just a bit and directly in front of me I saw our Nation’s Capitol. It stopped my breath and the reality of it all griped my heart.

As I watched this line of cars, policemen, limos, motorcycles and other cars drive towards the domed building in front of us... I welled with tears. I took a moment to allow myself to feel the magnitude of the event while I was alone – knowing that this emotion would have to be quietly tucked away once we stopped and warm smiles and gentle hugs would have to replace any sadness that reached my soul.

We continued on and then pulled one by one into one of our nation’s most honored and historic pieces of landscape. Everyone emptied out of their cars and began to come together in a quiet crowd. I recognized so many familiar faces having spent the better part of the month with so many of his family members.

The sun was awake now but only softly pouring down upon us – teasing our faces with just a taste of warmth. There was still a nip to the air but no one complained. I doubted anyone even felt it. After very long minutes, the announcement was made, “Ladies and gentlemen, if you all could follow along we will begin…” As directed, everyone went back to their vehicles once again.

As we reached the hill top I stood and took a very deep breath at the sight of the black majestic creatures waiting on us. To the left of the beautiful horses stood the musicians- instruments still… not making a sound. So much to take in but my role was not to bask in the appropriateness of the moment but rather to conduct visual temperature checks in case a hug, a Kleenex, a hand on a back, any gesture of comfort was required. If it was, I would move swiftly and gently to not cause any commotion but to just be there to support and guide. That was my purpose in being here.

People stood side by side and leaned a bit on each other. Beside me was a family friend holding a small child. I knew this little girl. She was his daughter. That adorable little six year old whose blonde ringlets and sweet little glasses made you instantly love her. She wore the same dress as her two sisters aged three and nine. Purple plaid skirts with pretty purple bows. Black patent leather shoes and little purple plaid caps to match. That was when that angel of a child began to speak…

“That’s my Daddy!” she said to the man holding her in his arms. “I saw that before. That’s my Daddy now. See?”

I did see. I saw her ‘Daddy’ as the casket draped in the American flag was slowly pulled from the hearse… this was what she pointed to…this was her Daddy now.

“My Daddy has that flag. See it?” the family friend holding her began to shake. I could see him trembling as he pulled the bandana from his dress pants and put it over his eyes. He couldn’t speak.

“Are those horses for my Daddy? Are they going to bury him? He has to go in the ground. Is that why there are horses?” she asked in a little voice with the excitement of a parade.

“Yes, honey,” I said to her and smiled. “They are here for your Daddy and they will give him a little ride now.”

“Why are there people with those drums and stuff? Are they for Daddy too?”

“They sure are!” I answered. “They are going to play some songs for him.”

“Daddy has to be buried in the ground with his flag. I want a flag too.”

The friend was now sobbing as I reached out to touch his arm and then I slowly turned away… and wiped the tears from my own eyes.

It was time.

The large crowd that had come to say goodbye to this Special Forces Green Beret – this soldier of our Army— stood in silence as the men in uniform began the ceremony. They meticulously stepped in time, focused, with deliberate movements towards the back of the hearse. They moved like liquid robots, fluidly and in perfect rhythm. Not one out of line or out of step with the others. That would never be permitted for this hero.

As “Daddy” was placed into the horse drawn wagon, the band began and the family fell into place behind the vehicle of honor. And so began the gradual descent of a slow somber sea of purple and black.

Together we walked around the corner, down the hill, and under a serene set of rustling trees. The sun peeked through the branches trying to catch a glimpse. What a sight we must have been from where the sun looked from. So soft was the morning and the warming of the air. So quiet was the mood and the sound beneath the trees.

The band began with the whisper of a note and I gazed with respect as the hands began to rise to the brows. Men and women in different suits of bravery. National Guard, Army, Navy and a Marine. Each with their salute in motionless stance.

We gathered around a grave site reserved for the noble and listened as ministers prayed for us all. So many dignitaries, so many friends, so many tears and cries. I thought of his children and how different it was for each of them. The oldest child sat weeping because she understood. The child with the questions still grinning at her favorite people around her and the three year old who sat down on the false green turf and pulled off one shoe, innocently oblivious to it all. I watched with concern as his grandmother hung her head knowing that the reality of it was choking her now. I wanted to go to that front row of chairs and hold her as she cried. I wanted to suck the pain out of his mother like you would snake venom from a bite. I wanted to make this all go away and return this family to the tranquility they knew weeks before.

I was snapped back by the sound of 21 shots as Taps sadly played. I listened to the sniffles of tears being muffled and waited patiently as each Officer spoke from their knees in front of each immediate family member.

As the service came to a close, I walked to the road. It was time for me to say goodbye for now with promises of calls soon. The first person to come towards me was his mother. She had avoided me a great deal in the days prior and I had stayed out of her way until now.

“Please know that on behalf of the American Red Cross of Central Maryland, we are deeply sorry for your tragic loss and the entire staff as well as our volunteers are truly saddened by the death of your son.”

I intended to just smile a little to comfort and walk away quickly but she looked up at my face and studied it for a second. Then as if it finally occurred to her that I was very sincere, she leaned in, hugged me and whispered, “Thank you,” in my ear.

I stepped away and saw his grandmother again. Before I could speak she was hugging me once more. “Oh sweetie, thank you for everything. You are a godsend. I love you.” I hugged her close and promised her I would be in touch. A promise I have since kept.

A hug for his sister in the National Guard. She smiled at me and laughed and said, “Can we keep you? I asked my Dad and he said it was fine!” We both laughed and I left her with a “Have a safe trip home.”

Last was his Dad who had been my primary family member to tend to. He smiled a big smile at me. I said, “Well, its time for me to go.”

“Okay kiddo, thank you for everything. You’ve been real good to my mother and my family. We’ve got to give you back now?”

I laughed and said, “Its okay—you’re going to hear from me again. You’re stuck with me. You know I got this.” He laughed hard at my last remark because it had been said to him so much in the weeks prior. We smiled at each other; I touched his hand, and walked away.

As I pulled out of Arlington, I thought about the morning. About everything that had transpired. It was only 10:00am.

As other people went on about their everyday lives, they probably hadn’t thought too much today about the sacrifices that are being made for us each day. They may not have realized that just an hour before a group of proud family members had said their hardest goodbyes. That three little girls had just witnessed their father’s funeral at Arlington National Cemetery. People living their everyday lives hadn’t seen the flag draped coffin. Or watched those gorgeous horses. Or heard the melancholy tunes of the world’s saddest song.

Or seen that somber sea of purple and black…….