Note from a Friend

Today I had a very moving email from my dear friend Monica. With her permission, I would like to share it with you:

Have just returned from Canada where everyone is wearing a red poppy button as a reminder. It's a good thing and I think of my old naval officer father each time I see one.

But for the last few days I've been in L.A... Today at LAX there were 2 Marines in dress uniform who boarded the flight. I spoke with them briefly and told them how great they looked in their uniforms. They thanked me politely but did not continue the conversation.

Before we landed, the pilot told us we were carrying the casket of a young Marine who died in Iraq. He asked us to remain seated when we landed as the family would be on the tarmac to receive the coffin with a Marine honour guard in attendance - we would disembark afterwards.

I happened to be sitting on the right side of the plane and here is what I witnessed. The father of the dead marine got out of a car with a police escort. He was an old biker with a white pony tail and a Hells Angel jacket, about 50+. His arms were crossed and he was brushing away tears from under his sunglasses as he hugged his body tightly - turning in distressed circles - back and forth, back and forth - as we passengers watched out the windows. After about 20 minutes, the hold opened and a coffin rolled out, covered in the American flag. The 2 Marines on my flight plus 6 others saluted respectfully and gently carried the coffin to a waiting hearse. They folded and handed the flag to his biker father who climbed into the back of the hearse with his son and drove away.

It was an agonizing, solemn scene that I hope never to see again - a father and his dead son's homecoming. Everyone on the plane was silent. I cried.