I'm Not Crazy

~7~ The Angels of Death

"It was by faith...to keep the Passover and to sprinkle blood on the doorposts so that the Angel of Death would not kill their firstborn sons."  Hebrews 11:28

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June 20th - Two years ago.

They always come in a pair. They always dress in all white. They always come with grave faces and ice cold eyes. They are the Angles of Death, and they are to be feared and avoided at all cost. For they only bring death, destruction and desolation everywhere they go. They are designated as the CNO (Casualty Notification Officer) who is always one rank higher than the Fallen One, and a Chaplain to make the notification to the NOK (Next of Kin). Military brats like me don't ever tell "knock knock" jokes...it's bad luck. For the Angels of Death might hear you and come knocking at your door...something to be avoided at all cost.

Everyone who lives on a military base knows the solemn duty of the Angels of Death. We all know that "grave look" they get in their cold eyes when they are preparing themselves for the one duty that no one ever wants to do. No one ever looks directly at them, but everyone watches intently to see which house the Angels of Death will Passover. 

When the Angels first arrive on base, everyone who sees them immediately stops whatever they are doing. Everyone holds their breath in silent prayer to remain invisible to them. And everyone prays the same prayer in rote unison. "O' no...please God...not me. O' Please God...not mine." 

For the most thier silent prayers are gratefully answered. But if today is your Day? Well, if you're anything like me, that's the day you stop ever asking that particular God for anything again. Because if the Day is yours...this is the Day that changes your life forever. For it is D-Day, Death Day.

For me that D-Day was June 20th ...when two Naval officers in dress white uniforms drove up and parked down the street just from our house on the base. Like everyone else on my street, I watched them get out of the car and I held my breath and prayed the Passover prayer. Only this time my prayer wasn't heard by my old god. For the Angels had come to my house that day, to take away my father.

As the Angels of Death slowly marched to my house with grave purpose, I felt the first frost of fear start to bloom in my chest. I slipped off the swing I was sitting on and hid just out of sight, just around the corner of our small cement porch, praying even harder. With dread, I listened to the Angels of Death knock on the front door and wait in deathly silence. Then when my mother opened the portal to hell, they pronounce God's will to my mother in stony cadence.

"Mrs. Margret O'Reilly...on behalf of the Secretary of the Navy, we regret to inform you that your husband Lt. Commander Kevin Patrick O'Reilly was killed in action in this morning as a result of wounds received from hostile action while on a mission in hostile territory. In that place Over There.

I don't really remember much after that, save for the sound of howling wind. Or maybe it was all the blood draining from my brain rushing in my ears? Or the feeling of the cold steel cage that clamped down on my heart and soul, that left me cold and numb, for years to come.

After the Angels notify you of the Death, they always politely ask is there someone else they can call to come over and stay with you? Before they leave you alone to your grief. Luckily for my mother, I was already there for her and prepared to do my solemn duty in silence.

.o0o.

The morning of my father's funeral, I woke up early and dressed in my new black dress purchased just for this day. I rode with my mother in the funeral coach behind the hearse, all the way out to Miramar National Cemetery. My mother was in still in shock at the time, so the only thing she said to me was, "You look beautiful in that dress." I took the compliment at face value and I replied back in kind, "Thank you, so do you, mom." So with these pleasantries out of the way, we rode the rest of the way to the cemetery in respectful silence.

I did not cry after the funeral was over. But I think I cried a lot the night before in my sleep because in the morning my pillow was wet next to my face. One of the reasons I didn't cry was that my dad had pretty much prepared me for the possibility of his death since I was five.

He explained to me that his duty was a dangerous one, and fraught with mortal peril. I know that must sound like an incredibly cruel fear to put into a five-year-old's head. But my dad was a big believer in being honest, even with a child. He told me that it was okay to cry if I had to, but it was better to keep things inside if I could. And I loved my dad, so I become an expert at suppressing my feelings.

At the funeral, you might want to believe that minster invoked the traditional Valley of Death prayer like in war movies. "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me...."  But like a lot of things you see in movies, this just simply isn't true.  

What is true is that Naval funerals are very seldom, postponed because of inclement weather. There is a coffin, whether one is needed or not. There is always a flag on the coffin, with the Stars above the head of the Fallen One and the Stripes flowing down to their soles. They always play "Taps" at the funeral. They always shoot off guns ...as if anyone really ever needs another reminder of how the Fallen One fell.  

Most people think this is the "Twenty-one-gun-salute", because there are seven rifles that are fired three times. But this belief is not true either. In reality, this is salute is a ceremonial act by the Honor Guard performed at military funerals known as "The Three Volley Salute". It is an ancient custom originating from the ancient European dynastic wars. A signal both sides of a battle,  when the fighting paused in order that the dead and wounded could be removed from the battlefield. Afterwards another three shot volley was fired into the air to signal that the battle could once again resume properly.

After the salute, the honor guard carefully lifts the flag from the coffin. The flag is then ceremoniously folded into a triangle, with the stars facing outward to the heavens. They always give the triangle flag to one of the family members, usually the wife if there is one. Inside the flag are three spent rounds from the "Three Volley Salute."

When they present the patriotic triangle they always say: "On behalf of a grateful nation and a proud Navy, I present this flag to you in recognition of your (relationship's) years of honorable and faithful service to his/her country."  Upon presenting the flag, they always step back one pace and render a sharp salute, before going away to leave you alone with your grief.

Depending on the branch and the unit, sometimes afterward one of the Fallen One's comrades in arms will present the Fallen One's surviving child with a memento mori. Memento mori which roughly translates to "remember that you too must die". This memento is usually in the form of a medallion for valor, combat, death or a service insignia. In my case, the memento mori was my father's Naval Aviator Insignia...his Gold Wings. 

Those are the things that always happen to the Fallen Ones. But for the surviving family of the Fallen? What happens after the Fall is left up to chance, circumstance and happenstance. Or as I like to call it now...Shit Fucked And Out Of Luck.

Also if you live on base like we use to, you always vacate the base housing as soon as possible. Always within one year of the Day. Then life goes on...even if you're crazy like me.

So after the funeral, I put my father's golden wings, my memento mori, on simple ball link chain around my neck. A piece of him to carry with me everywhere I go next in my new crazy life, so he will always be with me. And I touch my memonto mori a thousand times a day, both consciously and unconsciously.