Huh? Wha?
And that concludes our service, ladies and gentlemen.
Please watch your step when exiting the grounds.
The phrase my mother used to describe military funerals is 'hauntingly beautiful' and if you've ever been to one, you know why. There are so many things I could say about Scott dying (over and over and over again) and the nature of his death. He died a soldier which was the last thing anyone expected. But... today it made sense. They say everything happens for a reason, and there was something about the precision, the care that goes into what happened today that made sense. It was respect. Which is... so well deserved that I don't have the words to describe it. I can forgive the gunshots. I can forgive the sound of Taps making my stomach sink.
If we're noting anything else, it's the people there. Scott's friends and family from... probably every place he's ever been to long enough to talk to a person were there. The first two make sense, right? But when I say his friends and family, I mean enough people to pack the waiting room. We broke some kind of record it seems. The procession was forever long. He had a crowd.
Quite appropriately, he went out like a rock star. And the after party *ahem*.... wake was just as packed, including a few people who couldn't make it to the funeral.
And do you know that fucker had the nerve to get the purple heart?
Like I said, a total rock star.
But....
But.
I miss him. I was at the funeral and I still don't believe it. It hurts in a way I never want to experience ever again, and while I'll say the pain of losing him is worth it for the chance to have known him, thank fuck he can't do this again.