The boxes arrived a few days after my dad died.
Two boxes.
One contained photographs and writings of his war time in Korea and Vietnam. Also in the box was a 5″ thick binder with a copy of what appears to be every piece of paper he gave the Corps (my birth certificate, transcripts from University) as well as performance reviews and actions issued during his career. The other smaller box held insignia, medals, badges, pins and uniform parts.
I have read bits and pieces of the binder and scrapbooks over the last several days. He was gone a lot when I was growing up, and now I know more about what his work involved. He didn’t talk about why he received the medals on his uniform but here it all was.
Having a military dad made for a lot of good-byes.
Never knowing which one might be the last I suppose I should have been prepared. In my head I guess I was but my heart is struggling with the never-again-ness of his death.
Can one wear grief lightly?
This year the Marine Corps birthday and Veteran’s Day are bittersweet and I am left with this lifetime delivered in two boxes.
I chose a small Eagle, Globe and Anchor as my talisman. Always faithful does not mean always burdened.
It’s true, what Margaret Atwood says: “In the end, we’ll all become stories”.
Semper Fi, Dad.
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