One thing about Memorial Day that is not often discussed is the work of the soldiers who are given the difficult honor of knocking on that door and bringing the fallen home.

I was reminded of that when a good friend asked if anyone remembered the photo of a widow keeping vigil by her husband’s casket the night before the funeral service. I knew immediately what he was talking about. 

It started with a young reporter by the name of Jim Sheeler who decided to not just write an obituary, but tell the stories of our fallen soldiers, culminating in a 12,000 word essay called “Final Salute.” 

A story of the realities of Casualty Assistance Officers embarking on the most difficult, heart-rending, rewarding, painful journeys of all. That of telling families their soldier has been killed. That of staying with that soldier in his flag-draped coffin every single step of the way from Dover to his final resting place. It is a story of loss, pain, disbelief, grief, and honor. It is a story of how the military takes care of their own AND their families as they navigate their grief and loss. 

That knock on the door starts the process of shattering lives and embarking on a path of grief. Yet it is also a process of moments where both the stories of the soldier and the stories of the family and friends are told so eloquently. 

The knock on the survivors’ door is, Beck says, “not a period at the end of their lives. It’s a semicolon.” Deployed military personnel often leave behind, or write in the war zone, “just in case” letters. Army Pfc. Jesse Givens of Fountain, Colo.: “My angel, my wife, my love, my friend. If you’re reading this, I won’t be coming home. . . . Please find it in your heart to forgive me for leaving you alone.” To his son Dakota: “I will always be there in our park when you dream so we can still play together. . . . I’ll be in the sun, shadows, dreams, and joys of your life.” To his unborn son: “You were conceived of love and I came to this terrible place for love.”

It is about helping Katherine Cathey grieve her husband:

At a funeral home, he watched as a pregnant widow, Katherine Cathey, said goodbye to her husband, 2nd Lt. James J. Cathey, hugging the open casket before asking Beck for a sonogram that had been taken two days after her husband’s death.

“She stood cradling the ultrasound, then moved forward and placed it on the pillow at the head of the casket. She stood there, watching for several minutes, then removed it,” Mr. Sheeler wrote. “She walked the length of the casket, then stepped back, still holding the only image of James J. Cathey Jr. She leaned in and placed it over her husband’s heart.”

The photo of Katherine keeping vigil by her husband’s casket the night before his funeral service will always make this room incredibly dusty and hurt my heart.

It is of the aftermath, when Major Beck returns to Laramie, WY a month later to bring Kyle’s possessions home to his parents. He didn’t have to do so and yet … 

“I know that Kyle Burns is looking at me, making sure I’m squared away—with his family and with him,” he said during the drive to Wyoming. “I know I’m going to have to answer the mail on that one day—not with God but with Kyle.”

Excerpt From
Final Salute
Jim Sheeler
https://books.apple.com/us/book/final-salute/id357990178

It’s about the story, as told by LtCol M.R. Strobl USMC via BlackFive of bringing Private First Class Chance Phelps home. 

The carriage stopped about 15 yards from the grave and the military pall bearers and the family waited until the men of the VFW and Marine Corps league were formed up and school busses had arrived carrying many of the people from the procession route. Once the entire crowd was in place, the pallbearers came to attention and began to remove the casket from the caisson. As I had done all week, I came to attention and executed a slow ceremonial salute as Chance was being transferred from one mode of transport to another.

From Dover to Philadelphia; Philadelphia to Minneapolis; Minneapolis to Billings; Billings to Riverton; and Riverton to Dubois we had been together. Now, as I watched them carry him the final 15 yards, I was choking up. I felt that, as long as he was still moving, he was somehow still alive.

Then they put him down above his grave. He had stopped moving.

That moving account of the care and honor for PFC Chance Phelps was made into the HBO movie “Taking Chance.” 

On this day we honor the families and friends of the fallen. A hole has been left in their hearts that will never fully heal, yet their memories of their friend, husband, son, brother, cousin will continue to shine bright. 

On this day we honor and thank those such as Lt. Col. Strobel, Major Steve Beck, and countless others who brought our soldiers home to their final resting place, helped their families and friends grieve, and rendered them the utmost honor of that one Final Salute.

Feature Photo Credit: Marine holding a folded American Flag via iStock, cropped and modified