Semper Fi

Well, it's over. The funeral for my father in law was yesterday morning. It was a fitting tribute to a plain and humble man, wounded Iwo Jima veteran, and patriarch. Six Marines from Wichita provided an appropriate service at the graveside. They played Taps, folded the flag, and fired volleys in honor of a fallen hero and fellow Marine. Several Legionnaires paid tribute as well, forming a corridor outside the church and at the cemetery. The funeral itself could not have been better or more fitting.
Several of the family spoke at the service. My niece gave perhaps the most eloquent, although no more passionate, tribute. The only thing Grandad would not have wanted was the salute at the end of her talk. She is active Air Force along with her husband. They stood at attention at the casket after she said her piece and gave a salute to the decorated soldier and lifelong Marine who always said that the real heroes were the ones who never made it back home alive.
A member of “The Greatest Generation”, Grandad assimilated back into society following his wound and discharge, raised a family, worked hard, paid his bills and his taxes, griped about the government and politics, and loved his offspring and their issue. He had a rather simple philosophy of what was right and wrong; if it looked or sounded cock-eyed and obtuse, it was probably wrong. If it fit with the philosophy of loving one's neighbor and doing the right thing, it was probably right. He didn't have many things that he hadn't already placed in one category or the other long, long ago.
As a pumper for an oil company, Grandad worked hard and put in a full day's work for a day's pay. He had little use for anyone who wouldn't or couldn't carry their own weight in the oil field, or any other work environment for that matter. “Can't use you,” was the kiss of death when Grandad said that to someone working for him. It meant that you weren't pulling your weight and might as well pack up and go home.
In later years, he became more frail. Although he managed to live at his home until the end, and remain active in the community as well, I think he was ready to go long ago. His wife died fifteen years ago, and I think he was ready to be reunited with her. What happened, happened, and it is all part of life and living.
The family tree will continue to sprout new branches and leaves. It will continue to grow by both direct descendancy as well as by grafting in (marriage and adoption). It has had a good root system, which remains alive and vibrant, even though the one providing the anchor is no longer here. Someone else will step in to fill that void, and life and living will continue.
Semper Fi, Grandad.