Along with planning the perfect memorial to honor Mike, there were so many other decisions to be made that week. Decisions that a 33-year-old wife should never have to be making. One of those was to decide quickly where Mike would be buried. This was something we had never even talked about. Who does when they are as young as we are?
I didn’t know where the hell I was supposed to “lay my husband to rest”.
I wanted it close to where we lived so we could go there anytime we wanted and it had to be a place Mike would love. One morning that week I was picked up by one of my family liaison officers and he took me to the local cemetery.
Thank the Lord for my two liaison officers, who are also great friends of our family. These two men did more for me than I will ever realize or even know, and they still do to this day. And all while they were grieving the loss of their buddy, but as always, they stayed so strong for the boys and me.
We met with the cemetery director and followed her around from one empty plot to another. I had to keep it together that day and stay focused on the task at hand but today, I was mad. I was mad at Mike.
Why did he leave me to make all these crappy decisions on my own? We made all our decisions together. But today I was deciding where the boys and I were going to go for the rest of our lives to “visit” him.
It was a beautiful summer day. We walked from one section of the cemetery to the other and I pretty quickly said no to the first two spots. They weren’t right. Then we walked to the complete opposite side of the cemetery. There was a beautiful tree shading the grass. It was quiet. It felt like I was out in the mountains somewhere. It smelled like camping, which is something we love to do. This was it.
When I saw how much shade the grass area got I knew it. Mike was a huge wuss in the sun.
But this wasn’t what solidified my decision. In front of Mike would be another local hero, a marine killed while deployed. Next to Mike would be two more veterans. This was the heroes spot of the cemetery. And this is what I told my boys when I got home.
This was where their dad belonged. With all the heroes.
The morning of the memorial service arrived. My house was filled with family and we all quietly got ourselves ready. I remember it took me a long time. I had to stop and pause between each application of makeup, each curl of my hair, and as I got dressed. I felt like I was in slow motion, not to mention completely sleep deprived and I hadn’t eaten all week.
My boys looked so handsome. One of my best friends had taken them to get fitted for suits. The black cars arrived to escort us, as well as the motors unit from the police department. We all gathered around each other, took some deeps breaths and my dad prayed for this big day we were all about to face.
We were escorted to the funeral home where Mike was waiting for me. I say me because you better believe after not getting enough time with him 7 days earlier I sure as hell was going to be the first to be with him and spend as much time as I wanted. On the drive to the funeral home we saw on every single freeway overpass firetrucks flying their flags high with lines of people saluting. The neighborhood streets leading to the mortuary were lined with people, strangers. They were saluting, flying flags, holding signs. All ages from children to the elderly all there to honor their local hero.
Once we were ushered inside there was another curtain that kept me from him. I remember telling my mom I could do this by myself. I took a deep breath and walked down that center aisle of that little chapel to my husband. But boy, was this different than walking down the aisle of a beautiful chapel to him 12 years prior. This time he was lying in the casket the boys and I designed, etched beautifully with his badge. He was in complete police uniform down to the shined boots. I pulled up a chair, held his hand and just sobbed. It just didn’t seem real. Get up! Get up and take me home!
I knew I needed to get myself together and give the boys the option to see their dad. I went to the back room where my family was all keeping them entertained. Prepared them a little for what they were going to see and walked with them down that aisle. They looked at their daddy in that same uniform they last said goodbye and hugged him in. Of course, my silly Jason teased his dad for wearing makeup. Josh was quiet, almost a little afraid. They didn’t stay long at all. Pretty much walked in, looked and walked out. But that was okay. I took them back to the room and then went back to him. At one point I completely lost it and that’s when my dad joined me. My dad held me as I sobbed staying so strong when I knew it was breaking his heart to see his little girl like this.
I was finally ready to leave, though I didn’t want to, but it was time to leave for the memorial service. Again, people lined the streets the entire drive there and hundreds of motors officers on their motorcycles, from all over the country, served as escorts for their brother in blue and his family.
