Proving True

Shawna stands behind the podium, the experts would say she’s hiding. She wipes her hands on her tunic and begins. “Hi everyone, thank you for coming. We’ve been through a lot lately. We’ve lost some friends, some very dear friends.” She pauses to wipe a tear from one eye. “Most of you knew Sergeant Major Call. His friends and I had the singular privilege of calling him Freddie. He was the one of all of these,” she waves a hand at the collage of photographs to her left, “that I knew best, so he’s going to be the one I talk about the most. I hope that’s all right with you. It’s not meant to diminish anyone, or magnify him, it’s just…” she chokes on a sob. “I’m sorry, this is hard. Funerals aren’t for the dead; they’re for the living. Every one who knew Freddie knows he wasn’t afraid of death. He always joked that dying was the easy part. It was all that shit about having to stay dead that he objected to.” She and several others titter through their pain.

“If you’d been paying attention recently, you saw a change in Freddie.” A few of the people, most of them troopers, nod their heads. Maybe I was the only one who missed it. “Freddie used to be afraid of what would happen when he died. He knew it was coming, it kind of comes with the job, he would say. But a few months ago, Freddie made a decision. It was that kind that it’s never too late to make. He wasn’t pushy about it. He didn’t broadcast it. And he certainly didn’t push his beliefs on anybody else.

“I’m not saying you need to decide the same way he did. Freddie would drop kick me if he knew I was turning his—or anybody’s—memorial into a spiritual plea. I guess all I’m saying is, you do need to decide. And even not deciding is a decision. But not only Freddie, all of them, every last one, will be missed. And I think I’ve screwed this up enough. Thank you and bless you. And like Freddie would say, ‘You’re on the clock. Get back to work!’”