“I shifted as an ant bit my toe. It was hot- even standing outside the tent. While people bowed their heads in prayer, my mind replayed the memory of the first time I met my husband's grandfather.
The whole family had gone out to dinner and I ended up sitting to his right. A military man, he wasn't one for small talk and seemed pleased that I didn't force him into unnecessary chatter. His eldest son though, my father-in-law, took it upon himself to fill the silence. He was halfway through a story when Vernon Sr. leaned over to me, eyes glistening with mischief, and said, "If bullshit was music, he'd be a brass band."
We were friends from that moment on.
The roar from the flyover jolted me back into the present- one last farewell from Vernon's fellow pilot friends. As taps played in the distance, I squeezed my husband's hand and watched as they slowly lowered his grandfather's casket into the ground.”
-Courtney Khail