Chapter 44
a final good night
Rowan
The air is mild, the sky boasts large clouds shielding the sun, and the lake is still as glass on the afternoon of Pops’ memorial. A day that couldn’t be more Norman Shaw coded if it tried.
“Here, let me fix it,” Dubs offers.
His dress shoes clack on the wood floor as he crosses the bedroom. Take it upon my best friend to drive my family across the country and also think to bring my Army dress uniform to have for the funeral.
Wordlessly, he coerces the black tie tucked behind the midnight blue lapeled jacket into alignment.
Gold buttons secure the coat into polished presentation.
A collection of medals signifying achievements in combat, specialized training, and other accomplishments of merit adorn the chest panels and sleeves.
“Thanks,” I say as he steps back to assess his work.
“Sure thing.”
“Not just for the tie. Thanks for being here and for bringing Mom and Bridget. It means a lot to me.”
“Of course, man. I’ll always be there for you. You, the rest of the guys, we’re brothers.”
Family. Brotherhood. I’ll miss that part most of all.
I return the favor in silence when he puts on his matching blazer. Once our tan berets are in place, we join Mom and Bri in the kitchen where they’re assembling the hors d’oeuvres.
Mom gives me a once over and opens her arms from her seat at the table. “You look handsome, sweetheart.”
I bend down to hug her. “Thanks, Mom. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
“I was thinking,” I start, lowering into the chair beside her. “We could take Dad’s flag back home when we leave.”
Her gaze slides to the mantel. She shakes her head. “No, this is where he belongs. He and I always talked about moving here someday, building a house down by the shore. His flag next to Norm’s, in this place”—she nods thoughtfully—“that’s how it should be.”
I grab her hand, pull her eyes back to me. “Mom, it’s always been yours.”
Eight years old was too young to grasp the meaning when she left Dad’s flag with Nana and Pops. But understanding came with time.
The folded stars and stripes belong to next of kin—it was supposed to be Mom first, then me. My mother with the big heart, however, recognized everything my grandparents would be without when she and I returned to our life in North Carolina. “We have each other, they can have the flag,” she’d said.
“I know that, sweetie.” She gives my hand a reassuring pat. “But I got you and his dog tags, remember? That”—she points at the fireplace—“is meaningful, yes, but at the end of the day it’s only fabric and stitching. You have always been what I cherish most in keeping your dad’s memory alive.”
Mom tweaks the fold of my beret to cap the discussion. I turn to Bri and Dubs working over the cheese tray. Nobody’s foaming at the mouth, so that’s a good sign.
I glance at my watch and stand from the table. “You guys need any help?”
My friend’s phone rings. “Sorry, gotta take this.” Dubs disappears out the front door before he connects the call.
Sidling in next to my stepsister, I ask again. “Can I help?”
“I think Tess and I are almost done here. You might check on Hannah, though. She’s working on things outside.”
The sliding door clicks shut behind me as I spot Hannah shifting picture frames on the guestbook table. I cross through the small clearing of trees, my steps quiet.
She pauses on the photo of Nana and Pops on the dock—the one we found in the garage the other day. My hand finds her hip and she jumps in surprise, nearly dropping the frame.
“Holy crap, you scared me!” She sets the picture on the table and turns around in my arms. Her eyes flare for a beat, then she retreats a few steps to look me up and down.
“Well, I can’t think of a more inappropriate time for you to show me this.” She comes close again, finger gliding over my smooth jaw. “And you shaved.”
“Yeah, sorry. Military rules.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t mind, you look good either way. I didn’t know you were gonna wear your dress uniform.”
“I wasn’t, but Dubs packed it. He’s wearing his too.”
“There’s two of you?” Her eyes bug out again. “Bri really doesn’t stand a chance.”
Laughing, I close my lips over hers. “Settle in, baby. There’s more.”
Over her shoulder, I nod toward the six men in full dress comprising the Honor Guard headed toward us.
Hannah hums. “On that note, I should warn your sister.”
In between Dubs helping Mom to her seat and introducing himself to the guys from the Honor Guard, he’s been ducking away to take phone calls every few minutes. Hannah’s stayed by my side to greet everyone as they arrive.
Her Golden Boys—Pops’ friends—are here as promised along with Lydia and Richard.
The thirty or so other guests all hail from the VFW.
Military bomber jackets covered in patches, Vietnam veteran hats, Garrison caps, it’s all represented by a small, but meaningful crowd who’ve come to honor my grandfather.
Some walking by cane whether by injury or old age, others younger and still able to fit into their dress uniforms. I don’t know most of their names, but they’re here for Pops, and that’s all that matters.
Dubs reappears next to me as the last guest heads to their seat.
I squeeze Hannah’s hand. “I guess we’re ready then.”
She nods and turns to give the Pastor the go ahead, but my friend interrupts. “Not yet. We’ve got a few more.”
Dubs’ face is unreadable, but the sound of tires raking gravel pulls my attention before I can figure it out.
The SUV is unrecognizable to me, then again, most of the vehicles here are. But the four men who climb out of it aren’t.
I spin back to my friend. “What the hell did you do?”
“Nothing you wouldn’t have done for any of them.”
My jaw tics, and I sniff back the tears burning the back of my throat as I yank him into my chest. His palm comes down hard on my back.
“We love you, man.”
Releasing him, I look away, unable to string a sentence together. I drag my forefinger and thumb across my eyes and turn in time to meet my brothers in uniform on their approach.
A swift hug and teary thanks is all I can manage to my squad mates before the Pastor calls for the service to start.
I wanted a simple memorial. A few words from the minister, a prayer, the Honor Guard to do their thing, and that’s it.
“Norman didn’t attend church much after his Maggie passed,” the Pastor begins.
“But the time I spent getting to know him by his wife’s side gives me the confidence to tell you they’ve been reunited and they’re with their son, Michael, in a place where there are no tears and no suffering.
And, despite his grumbly facade”—a light chuckle rumbles through the crowd—“I have no doubt they’re smiling together as we speak.
“And it’s the joy I know they’re sharing in now that makes it easy for me to stand before you today with the message that though our hearts grieve—and grieve, they do—there remains an abounding hope on this side of eternity.”
I fold my hand into Hannah’s, gaze fixed on the flag draped over the table placed before us.
The Pastor opens his Bible and begins to read. “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.”
Hannah’s grip tightens in mine. I turn to meet her watery smile, lost in the memory of these words and all they’ve represented for me over the years. Words I know she’s carried with her too.
I lose track of the Pastor’s message after that.
Before I know it, he recites his closing prayer and the Honor Guard moves into position.
My Ranger comrades fall into line in the grass clearing in my periphery, brothers standing in solidarity.
Chairs creak in the rows behind me, everyone in attendance following my lead as I rise to my feet.
Two uniformed soldiers flank either end of the flag draped table, standing at attention. Three more stationed on the lake’s shore in the distance, rifles at the ready, a military bugler alongside them.
A preparatory command echoes through the trees. With Hannah’s clutched in my left, I bring my right hand to my brow in salute, every other soldier and veteran doing the same.
“Ready!” Three rifleman manually chamber a blank round. “Aim!” Weapons raised. “Fire!” BANG!
A flock of birds retreat from the pine canopy overhead, wings stretched wide as they dip toward the water and up to the clouds.
“Ready! Aim! Fire!” BANG!
Hannah flinches and I grip her hand harder.
“Ready! Aim! Fire!” BANG! “Cease firing! Present Arms!”
The brass melody of “Taps” begins. Melancholy and peaceful, the tune lingers as a final goodbye to honor a man who served his country with valor. A final good night. Lights out at the end of an arduous battle, hard-fought. A life crossing into an eternal rest, well-earned.
Then, silence.
Utter quiet as the last note of the bugle fades on the wind and the soldiers pull the flag taut between them. Thirteen folds.
Long minutes with nothing but the breeze rustling the trees and the sweep of the soldiers’ white gloved hands over the starched fabric. None of it loud enough to cover the sound of my galloping heart.
I’ve sat witness to this ceremony countless times. I’ve stood in salute over the caskets of men who fought alongside me, offered my condolences to their parents, their siblings. Their children. I watched Mom weep when the soldier passed the flag to her in honor of my dad’s service.
Somehow, I never fully processed until this moment what it means to be Pops’ only living next of kin. Not only that I’ll be on the receiving end of the flag, but also that a world without the best man I’ve ever known means I’m the last one left.
The last Shaw.
An unspeakable weight settles in my bones. I keep my eyes trained on the lake ahead to try and staunch the burn. Hannah knows. Mom knows. Two steady hands rest like anchors on my back as I fight to hold my composure.
My efforts are useless as the soldier approaches. I lower my gaze to the flag presented between his palms and the first tear slides down my cheek.
“On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Army, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.”
I drop my salute and accept the flag with a simple nod, sniffing back more tears.
One final salute of respect from the soldier before he spins on his heel and returns to his post. A moment later, the Pastor offers his closing remarks before everyone’s dismissed.
Fifteen minutes. The whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than fifteen minutes, yet the beautiful burden those minutes held is something I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.
“I’m gonna check on the food table.” Hannah’s voice grounds me back to the present.
“No. Stay.”
The crease between her brows deepen as her eyes meet mine. “Don’t you wanna catch up with your buddies? I’ll only be a minute.”
I shake my head, refusing to let go of her hand. “No.”
“Ro—”
I throw my arms around her in a desperate hug. Silent sobs shudder through me, and I bury my face in her neck, not caring who sees.
Everything about today, every person who showed up for him—it’s all her. None of it exists without her.
Hannah. The sun, the glue, and the confetti all wrapped up in one perfect woman.
No moment spent with her, thinking about her, making her laugh, drying her tears, kissing her, touching her, falling in love with her—none of it could ever be a mistake. And even though she doesn’t want me to say the words, I’ll make sure she feels them.
Because how can you regret a single moment when you’ve found the one thing so many people spend a lifetime looking for? Something—someone—this special and rare.
You don’t.
All you can do is cherish it and pray like hell it sticks around.