Honoring Private Dads

Yesterday was Memorial Day and we traveled not far to visit the gravesites of my two dads.

As my wonderful wife and I pulled into the Zachary Taylor National Cemetery, I was overcome with the grandeur and peacefulness. The long entrance was lined on both sides with numerous American flags. The trees were plentiful and majestic. The lawn was beautifully manicured. The birds were faintly whistling in the background. There were 13,000 mirroring tombstones perfectly aligned in a military "dress right dress." Tranquility was abundant.

As I parked the car, to my left I noted three women sitting on the grass surrounding the tombstone of their loved one. One of the women was leaning in to the tombstone in hopes to feel closer. My emotions were touched and I squinted to read about the person that they were missing so. I note that he died in 1995, almost 40 years after my dad. I remember thinking, does the missing them ever go away?

13,000 tombstones - from a distance, they all look the same. Yet, each tombstone is a story of a person who is missed by someone. There is a name that tells you who they are. There are dates that tell you when they lived. There is a state that tells you where they were from. And lastly, there is military information that tells you the sacrifices they gave to their country.

I knew exactly where I was going – D516. "D" is for dad. When you transpose 1 digit, 516 represents the month and year that he passed - 1/56. It was far, far too soon.

I was 4 ½ years old when Dad 1 passed away. My brothers were 7 years and 6 months old. Since I was only 4 ½, I do not remember my father very much. I remember him coming home from work and inviting me up on his lap so he could read me the comics from the newspaper. I remember him proudly bringing home the new car, a yellow 1953 Chevrolet. Everything else I know about Dad 1 is from pictures or from what happened to him in World War II.

There it is was carved into his tombstone – "BSM-PH."

BSM stands for Bronze Star Medal and PH signifies a Purple Heart. The Bronze Star is awarded to a soldier who distinguished himself by heroic or meritorious achievement in connection with military operations against an armed enemy. In order to find out more information about what specifically Dad 1 did in WWII, I requested his military records. Unfortunately they were destroyed in a fire along with many other records years ago. The Purple Heart is awarded to members of the armed forces of the U.S. who are wounded by an instrument of war in the hands of the enemy. Dad 1 served in France as part of the D-Day invasion. He incurred two wounds from bullets. One bullet tore off two of his fingers from his left hand. Another bullet went through his lower lip. Although soldiers from the enemy were trying to end his life, he had not yet fulfilled his destiny. He provided my sculptor’s clay and he lives now through my brothers and I. The clay is my intelligence, compassion, kindness, humor and wit. I love and miss you Dad.

My mother married Dad 2 when I was 10 years old. Although he never talked much about it, I know that he too served in World War II. I only know that he was in Italy and that he worked in the finance area. It was his intention to continue a career in the military when a surgeon’s error damaged his vocal cord. He could only whisper, but I could understand him very clearly. Dad 2 assumed the task of shaping three boys into men. I remember rebelling against all of the curfews and chores. Then I did not understand what structure was, but I do now. Dad 2 epitomized what a good man is supposed to be. How he behaved and how he conducted his life was a continuous lesson of righteousness. As an adult, I remember our annual trek to work together at the Kentucky Derby. As I watched Dad 2 interact with others, I realized that everyone liked and respected him. For over 40 years, well after I became an adult, I learned and benefited from the example of Dad 2. He sculpted the clay into the man that I am. From him I learned good values and respect for all. Dad 2 passed away in 1998. I love and miss you Dad.

Dads, I think of you both often and I am forever thankful for how you shaped me into the person and I am. Without any arrogance, I like who I am and it is because of the both of you. Yesterday was special for me because I thought of you a little more than usual. Father’s day is near and again soon I will give each of you a little extra thought and thanks.