The Bugle Song

Immediately following my dad’s funeral service 5 years ago, my brother, sister, and I were met just outside the chapel by two Navy servicemen who came to honor my dad’s WWII military service. “Taps” was followed by the humbling and ceremonial folding of the American flag into that tightly tucked triangle. My brother, sister and I stood in solidarity, captivated by the solemn space between each bugle note. We were sanctified by the misty rain. That flag is now framed and rests in a prominent place in my brother’s home.

My dad never spoke much of his time while serving in Hawaii and the Philippines in the 1940’s. Like many other veterans, he just didn’t talk about it. After his passing, I felt sad that my family didn’t address this chapter in his life more. Granted, my dad really didn’t talk about the past much. He was definitely one who lived in the present. Yet, during the folding of the flag, we knew my dad would have been overcome with emotion at the ceremony honoring him. Perhaps the stillness of the moment might have prompted him to remember. More importantly, perhaps he would have felt our appreciation. At the time, I remember hoping my dad was witness somewhere, somehow to the ceremony so that he could feel the gratitude.

The average age of enlistment to the military is somewhere between 20 and 22. My dad was 18 when he joined the Navy. I can only speak to my readiness at that age to take on a country’s responsibility to defend and protect. Honestly, the majority of my energy at that time was more concerned the acquisition of Gloria Vanderbilt jeans.   

I’ve met enough veterans to know that there’s reluctance to talk about military service, especially when it involved combat duty. Young recruits grow up quickly. Short sighted wants and desires surrender to something greater. Inherent in service to our country, self yields to duty. Yes, military enlistment provides many young men and women opportunities for education and training in expertise and skill. Part of the agreement, however, is the possibility that all soldiers might find themselves in the trenches, literally. Brother and sisterhood rise to a place no words can describe, and the capacity of one person might be stretched in ways non-serving people can ever understand.

Every time I hear “Taps,” I feel like the interval between each lingering note collects the unspoken remembrances for those who have served our country. I’ve had many occasions since my dad’s passing to be in that sacred space when the vibrato of the bugle song stills the air with appreciation and honor. Often the pauses of the simple melody invite tears to fall. It is fitting that when we think about the complex and selfless ways in which our military family’s carry the load of protection for all, it’s the simplest trumpet that reverberates the greatest commemoration.

This Memorial Day, between cookouts and strawberry pies, we are called to remember those who have served our country. I join the reverence for those who have died, but I also think about the veterans who navigate life with the ghosts of a former time that might visit them in the stillness of their nights. Perhaps coming home poses the greatest challenge for many veterans. So, a wish for them today: in those moments of lonely pain, I hope you can hear the bugle song of appreciation from those of us who truly celebrate your service to this country. We are grateful.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash