I remember standing graveside at 9 years. Wishing this was not a story to be told. Long stringy hair, and a dress. They did the soldierers funeral military honors.
Three men standing broad in shoulder, in perfect order. A three-volley salute, rifles rang in your honor. It still seemed like a bad dream, you were so young at 30. Yet there we were standing at your grave. Loving Husband, father, and son engraved upon the stone. Your urn entered into the earth, with tear filled faces, and stained hearts. Shock, awe, and anger too. What did you do?
You were gone, and in your stead they handed mommy the neatly folded triangler flag. Red, White, and Blue. You served your country, but we still lost. You fought for your country, but not for us. Depression the silent reaper of your soul, took you. Stole you away in the doom of the night. For a soldier I shall give you credit. I take debit, for you left us too young. Too early you gave up, gave into ghouls that paraded in your heart. I guess it still makes me sad some 30 plus years later. I hate it when Satan wins.
Depression the silent killer of one too many soul. For you I will never know, and you too will not know me.
Blessed to have had you for 9 years, wish your heart could have been stirred. Shaken from the demons lurk.
Red, White, Blue. Neatly folded triangler flag in your stead. You were my daddy. Looking down at your urn, turning with soft steps grieving head down. Daddy, Leaving…you left