The Death of a Soldier

Last week I got a call from a good friend of mine telling me that her brother's best friend was killed in Iraq. She asked me if I would go with her to the funeral and I accepted the invite. This is the closest that I've come to being personally affected by the war and for that I am lucky.

The funeral itself, with the exception of my mother's, was the most intense funeral I had ever been to. The church was near reaching it's capacity and most of the attendees weren't even of legal age to drink. You see, the soldier that died from a stray bullet was Marine Lance Cpl. Drew Weaver, who was only 20 years old. A loss of a loved one is difficult to deal with, but when the one who died is so young, it's all the more tragic.

Hearing the measured steps of the Marines as they processed into the church should have been my first indication of what I was in for. I would be lying if I described this scene as anything but beautiful. Their steps were perfectly choreographed and every move was in unison. The church was so silent that when they brought their heels together the click echoed and brought about a feeling of emptiness from within.

Admittedly, I didn't know Drew Weaver. I might have seen him at a few of my friend's parties here and there. I doubt I ever said hi to him or even shook his hand. I was on the verge of tears, though, when they presented his Purple Heart to his parents. I felt silly crying at a funeral where I didn't personally know the one who passed, but I could barely contain the tears as they threatened to pour over and trickle down my cheeks.

I have to say that I was most touched by the procession to the cemetery. Due to the number of people in the church, I was not surprised by the number of cars in the line that all had the orange FUNERAL stickers and flashing hazards. I was however, surprised by the rest of the community. There were people standing along the street to show their respect for someone who gave their life to protect their own. Children were holding small American flags with signs stating "We'll miss you, Drew.". The students at the local tech school stood outside in silence as the endless line of cars drove by. Cars along the service road and intersection were stopped and the drivers were standing outside in the cold with their hands over hearts. Local veterans took the same position along the road and held their tattered military flags. Local American flags all flew half mast.

At the cemetery even more tradition and respect was shown for the fallen soldier. The American flag was folded and given to Drew's mother. The guns were fired in the air by the military. A boy played a song on the trumpet that I had only previously heard in movies and documentaries on the Discovery Channel.

I left the cemetery feeling a mixture of depressed and proud. I do not worry about Marine Lance Cpl. Drew Weaver. He is where he is supposed to be now. I do worry about his family and how they will handle the passing of their son that seemed to come too soon. I worry about my friend's brother who has gone through so much within the past few years and how he can emotionally handle all the changes in his life. I worry about Drew's comrades who will surely miss his presence as they continue to fight for our country. I am proud, though, of my community. This town pulled together and showed so much respect and admiration for someone that they didn't personally know. Local businesses donated food for the hundreds of people that attended the funeral. The funeral home itself, refused to take a cent from the United States Marine Corp or the family.

I am most proud, though, of the fallen soldier. A young man made the decision to give back to the country that had given him his freedom. He took responsibility for that gift and wanted to ensure the same freedom for the next generation. His dedication to not only our country, but to his family and friends is something we should all strive for.

I might never know the pain of losing a child or how it feels to lose my best friend to war. I do know what it feels like, though, to not be given the chance to say thank you to someone that deserves that and so much more. So with much respect and admiration, hoping that it will somehow get to him... "Thank you Marine Lance Cpl. Drew Weaver. Thank you."