The death of a soldier.

Mike's Grandpa Veitz died last Thursday evening following an attempt to cardiovert his heart.  This is done when the heart is misfiring in a rhythm that won't sustain life, so the heart is stopped, then shocked with the hopes that in the restart, the heart will resume beating with a normal heart rhythm.  Unfortunately, the cardioversion was not successful, and Grandpa Veitz's heart never resumed beating.  Although he had been in failing health for some time, the news was still unexpected and very sad.  Without hesitation, Mike and I packed our bags, loaded the girls, and headed to North Dakota.

I'm writing this story to tell the tale of our military and those who serve in it.  Walter Henry Veitz, 82, had served during the Korean Conflict, and from what his brother tells, saw some horrific things.  Through the years that I knew Grandpa Veitz, he never mentioned his time in the service.  He was always a jokester, and a man I really loved and greatly appreciated for the glimmer he had in his eyes... a tell-tell sign that he was going to trick you at cards or tell some sort of joke.  He was a leathermaker, too, of which I had found a kindred spirit having done leather work myself when I was little 4-H'er.  =)

Grandpa Veitz was buried in the National Cemetery outside Bismarck, North Dakota.  I have never been to Arlington, or any National Cemetery for that matter, so my only idea of what it would be like was from the images I had seen on TV or in the paper.  I did know that we had to be prompt on our arrival time as burials are occurring every hour eight times a day.  Exhausting.  I wondered if the soldiers helping with the service would be walking through the ceremony without much thought as they performed it repeatedly throughout the work day.

The grounds were well-manicured with the rows of headstones.  A large area of new gravesites with the metal markers gave indication where the newest were buried.  I was a bit taken aback at the number there, realizing how quickly our Nation's veterans are dying.  Further up the hill, a small building stood with a chapel.  To the left and waiting for our arrival and the ceremony, was a group of retired veterans serving as the Honor Guard, displaying our country's flags.  Their faces appeared somber and respectful, and I still wondered how they perceived the number of ceremonies in a day.

We walked into the small chapel with two rows of seats and Grandpa Veitz's coffin draped in the American Flag at the front.  This was framed by a series of tall windows overlooking the grounds and was topped by stained glass at the front.  No lights were turned on, so the sunlight was casting long shadows in the room, and in my opinion, really added to the effect.  At four posts around the casket were three Army soldiers (young, and still active duty, I would guess) and one older gentleman, a retired soldier.  Looking through the windows, the Honor Guard stood solemnly.  As the pastor walked through the final stages of the ceremony (we had attended a church funeral service prior), I kept watching the faces of all of the soldiers.  Inside and outside.  Emotions were actually showing on their faces, and it was then that I realized that they do take this seriously and were not marching through another ceremony.

As the service concluded, the sound of Taps played from over our left shoulders, the flag was removed from the casket,  the careful task of folding the flag was begun, final shots were fired, a final salute, and then the flag was presented to Grandma Veitz.  The Army soldiers had folded the flag with precision, then handed it to the retired veteran, who walked it to Grandma Veitz.  Kneeling down, he stated, "On behalf of the United States of America, and our local VFW post, we present this flag to you..."  As he said those words, his voice broke and tears welled up in his eyes.  He paused for a moment, finished his words, then handed the flag to Grandma Veitz.

It was a beautiful ceremony.

I had wanted to be photographing the whole thing because it was such a thing of beauty, but I didn't know how anyone would feel about someone snapping photos, so I stood behind the row of chairs and held Noël.

It made me think a lot about all of our veterans and our troops currently serving.  I thought of my cousin Troy, who has gone overseas two or three times, and how this ceremony will await him one day.  I thought of how many families, young and old, are sitting through this as our country moves through a period of war.  I thought of all of the heck our military receives... sadly.  Many people are willing to risk their safety, lives, and families for our benefit, and many of them end up sitting in a chapel, listening to taps, and watching in slow-motion as the flag that draped the casket is folded up and presented to the surviving spouse or children.

I was really moved by the sincerity and honor and respect shown to Grandpa Veitz's body, and I know it's being played out across the country.

My final thought as we drove away... "I really like the military."  All of it.