Week Four Theme

 In Memory of Major Dennis Murray. 
 Semper Fi.

2007...
    “I’m so proud of you,” My mother said as she held me at arm’s length. I smiled and adjusted the cap on my head, “But I don’t think even I am as proud of you as your grandfather is.” My mom tilted her head towards Papa, who was standing alone near the Civil Air Patrol van. His hands were folded together on top of his cane and his face looked nostalgic as he watched the kids load boxes of wreaths onto the truck. He wore a tan hat on top of his bald head. He was once a young man in the Army, so seeing all of these young people in uniform had a visible affect on him.
    “I knew this was something he’d enjoy.” I smiled. My mother reached down and picked a piece of lint off of my camouflage uniform. The name on my uniform read 'BERGIN' and the other side read, 'UNITED STATES CIVIL AIR PATROL'.
    “You look beautiful.” My mother said quietly, her eyes that looked so much like mine sparkling. I replied with a small laugh. My father was standing behind her, looking happy and proud.
    “Cadets!” Major Murray yelled, standing in the middle of the Worcester Wreath’s factory parking lot, “Ten minutes to departure!”
    Major Murray looked extremely stern and strong as he stood there. He was wearing his blues uniform and tall combat boots tied tight. Since it was the middle of December, he was wearing a uniform-regulation coat over his blues. He had a smile under his white mustache. As a veteran Marine Corps officer, his mustache wasn’t technically regulation. When he was a young man fighting in Vietnam, he had an unfortunate encounter with an enemy’s bayonet. Major Murray’s face was etched with more wrinkles then a man as fairly young as him should have, but I saw them as symbols of his well-lived life.
    I looked back at my parents, who almost appeared to have tears in their eyes. I knew that this was as proud as they had ever been of me. I’ve never gotten honor roll like Cindy always did. I sat the bench through all the sports games while she got awards for being an outstanding athlete. But Cindy never did anything like this. She never spent a week on the road participating in the world’s largest memorial parade.
    I said goodbye to my mother and father and my Nana, Papa and Grandma.
    “Who loves you more then Papa?” My Papa asked me, as he always has and probably always will.
    “No one.” I said, smiling, knowing that that’s the response he wanted. If we weren’t in public, he’d probably grab my hand and make me dance with him like he would if we were in his kitchen.
    “I’m so proud of you, Stinky.” He said, smiling broadly, “Call me as often as you can. We’re watching the whole program on the television.”
    I smiled and knew that he and Nana would be watching the news avidly.
    I was headed to Arlington, Virginia. It was apart of a program called Wreaths Across America, and I was involved in the event because I was a cadet in the Civil Air Patrol. Staff Sergeant Bergin. It was the best week of my life thus far. We drove ten cadets and Major Murray in a crowded bus to Arlington National Cemetery. We were going to place Christmas wreaths on the graves of fallen soldiers. We were going to decorate an entire section of the hallowed cemetery. Along the way, we were stopping at cemeteries and memorials to celebrate soldiers all over the country.
    I scooped up my duffle bag and walked towards the gaggle of St. Croix squadron cadets that I was apart of. Halfway there, I stopped and turned around, waving and smiling to my family again. Cindy and Donny even looked proud of me. I saw the happiness in my Papa’s eyes and then again in my father’s. I knew for some profound reason that they were even more proud of me then anyone else.
    “Bye, Mom!” Felicia hollered and waved as she walked towards me with her duffle bag slung over her back. She turned and smiled broadly, “I can’t tell you how excited I am!”
    “I can’t believe it’s finally here,” I replied, “This trip takes so much planning. I’m excited but really nervous. I’ve never been away from home for a whole week… and entire seven days.”
    Felicia shrugged her bag off of her shoulder, “I’ve gone to summer camp so many times, for three to four weeks stretches. I’m used to it. I don’t really notice it anymore.”
    I shoved my duffle bag into the trunk of the van on top of the other cadet’s things. We were almost all loaded up. Three of the male cadets were playing hackie sack in front of the van. The other cadets were still saying goodbye to their parents and families.
    Once we were all gathered, we all said hi and expressed just how excited we were to all be going on this trip together.
    “ATTENTION!”
    As if it was imprinted in our reflexes, we all turned towards the voice. We stood with our fists at our sides, our back and legs straight, our heels together and toes apart. Our chins were held parallel to the ground and our eyes were focused on nothing. Straight forward and strong.
    Major Murray smiled as he stood in front of us and crossed his arms, “I hope that you’re all ready to go. If you forgot something or need something, tough. We’re leaving in two minutes. I’m getting in the van and waiting for two minutes, and who ever isn’t in the van, stays here.” He uncrossed his arms and walked towards the van’s driver’s side door, “As you were.”
    Almost instantly, we all went back to what we were doing. Everyone got their things packed and their goodbyes were said. And within the allotted time, we were all sitting in the van and ready to go.
    “All the same rules apply at the armory that apply here.” Major Murray boomed as we all got in, “The six inch rule… Don’t touch anybody. Abide by all of your uniform regulations. You know what they all are. And act appropriately in public - remember that you represent the Civil Air Patrol wherever you go.”
    This was a speech that we heard on every trip we went on as a squadron. We had also heard everything we needed to hear at the weekly meetings for months now. This trip took extensive planning. We had planned it all year.
    We didn’t need Major Murray to tell us to buckle up; we knew we had to and just did. “Click!” We all said as we buckled up, and once we were all buckled up, Major Murray followed the motorcade headed towards Arlington.
    The motorcade consisted of police escorts, six 18-wheeler trucks full of Worcester Christmas wreaths, cars of the Worcester family and friends, and all of the Civil Air Patrol vans from every squadron in the state.
    I watched as the Worcester Wreath Factory disappeared in the distance. Even though we spent the whole day in the cold decorating those wreaths, I was sad to leave the factory.
    The happiness that I felt at that moment was so extremely profound that it almost brought tears to my eyes. I looked around the van at all of my friends and fellow cadets. These people had begun something of a family for me. We were all young and sometimes too silly for Major Murray’s liking. He was our herder and our leader, and he was proud to say that even when we were acting less then mature. He was a man with great intelligence, honor and pride… but he had one of the best senses of humor I’ve ever encountered.
    We were spending a week together on the road, doing something that was so meaningful and special to innumerable people. I truly felt like I was doing something that really mattered. I knew that this trip was something that would change the way I saw things and lived my life, from here on out.
    I realized then that Papa wasn’t the one who was the proudest of me. Dad wasn’t either.
    I was the person who was most proud of me.

A week later...

    We arrived at the cemetery at five in the morning. We were all tired, but our eyes were bright with excitement. The number of people at the beautiful and hallowed Arlington National Cemetery that morning was astounding. Not as astounding as the pure white stones against the green was. Thousands of people were there, scooping up wreaths and laying them on graves. My job was to distribute wreaths and lead crowds. At one point, I got distracted by how breathtaking this place was and wandered off. I was admiring the trees and praying, kissing my hand and placing it on every white stone I passed. Thanking them for their selfless service. I was gone for fifteen minutes before I heard Major Murray calling my name. I hadn’t even realized that I was wandering.
    I returned to my duties and assisted the other cadets. It wasn’t as cold in Virginia as it was in Maine, but it was still pretty brisk out. I was tired and it was far too crowded, but I was so extremely happy to be here that I didn’t care. It was the most breath taking sight I have ever seen. As far as the eye could see there were white stones. It was beautiful, sad and eerie. It’s a sight I could never forget, even if I wanted to. I can distinctly remember fighting my overwhelming emotions as I found the newest section of the cemetery. It was the burial place for soldiers who fought in Iraq. There were over a dozen graves that were so visibly fresh that it made me wonder if I had missed one of their funerals by only a day.
    Hundreds of people were there to help. Many were there to honor the graves of their fallen loved ones. Some were there because they thought they’d be on TV. Plenty were there to try and snatch a free wreath or two. Even more were there because they ‘wanted to be apart of something bigger then themselves’.
    The people who really pissed me off were the ones who got too tired and sat down on a headstone. They sat down on the resting place of a soldier who made the ultimate sacrifice for the rights of people they had never met. Those people didn’t piss me off half as much as the people who stuffed their pockets full of bows from the wreaths or walked off hiding a wreath under their jackets.
    As a cadet, we were allotted to lay two Christmas wreaths. But only after our job was done for the day. The section of the cemetery was beautiful decorated with thousands of red wreaths. Most of the people had left  and there weren’t many graves without wreaths, which made it hard to find one to decorate. The headstones with a Star of David on it, symbolizing that this soldier was Jewish, was decorated with a pebble laid on the top of the stone.
    Another cadet and I both had two wreaths and were looking for a grave to honor. We walked by a heartbreaking amount of graves that read, ‘MIA’ or ‘POW’. An astounding number of headstones had no names at all; just dates showing that the man who laid there was very young when he died. The other cadet and I walked along in honorable silence.
    Finally, we both were able to find undecorated stones. Ted Fullerton was the first soldier who I honored. He died when he was 38, and he fought in the Vietnam and Korean war. I took a step back, placed the wreath appropriately, stood up tall and saluted. The other cadet took a picture of me with my camera as I did this, and I took his when he did it. Once we decorated the wreaths and thanked them in our own way, we walked back to the group together. We didn’t say anything. The cold wind accompanied us as we walked. I’m not sure why we were both so quiet. Maybe we both felt that the people who were buried here deserved the utmost respect, for they were the true heroes and the true reason why we were here. Wreaths Across America was Mr. Worcerster’s idea, and he was a hero in his own right, but the people who rested here were who I was thanking that day.
    Once we got back to the group, Major Murray was standing silently, admiring the white, red and green horizon. The sun was beginning to set behind the long and winding limbs of the leafless trees. Major Murray stood tall, his dress uniform looking as sharp as I had ever seen it. His blue eyes were swimming with emotions; his arms, as usual, were crossed. I stood with him for a moment, wondering what he was feeling.
    After a few minutes, he realized I was standing there. He turned to me and smiled slightly, “Bergin. How goes it?”
     “Pretty well, sir. I laid two wreaths.”
    He nodded, “Good, good.” He paused for a moment and pointed at my camera, “Do you think you could email me pictures from today? I’d really like to use them.”
    I smiled, “Of course, sir. I’ll make sure to do that.”
    He smiled back and put his hand on my shoulder, “How have you enjoyed your first Wreaths Across America trip?”
    I cleared my throat, “It’s amazing.” I said quietly.
    He studied my face before replying, “It really is.”
    He and I stood there for a while. I didn’t know what he was thinking about. Maybe he was thinking about the friends he could have buried here. Maybe he was thinking about the long drive home from here. Maybe he was just tired or hungry.
    I was thinking about the week I had just lived. How many times I had heard the beautiful and haunting taps played on a trumpet; I’ll never know. How many memorials and cemeteries I had visited that week? I’ll never be able to count. I was thinking about the old man in a wheel chair who we visited in the veteran retirement home. He cried hysterically when he was presented with a Christmas wreath by one of the other cadets. I thought about the groups of  mothers of fallen soldiers who had told their stories. My mind passed the group of women who spoke at an event we went to. They were widows to men who gave their life for their country. I was thinking about our visit to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier here in Arlington, and how majestic of a ceremony that was. I thought about all of those nameless soldiers who were lost. What an honor, to even be in the presence of such a meaningful thing. And about the children that we visited in the elementary school, the ones who thought that my fellow cadets and I were soldiers because we wore uniforms, when really we weren’t much older then them. To this day, the number of 'MIA' headstones I saw at Arlington National Cemetery haunt me. I thought about how many people I had honored this week, ones who had a voice and ones who didn‘t. Maybe I even honored Major Murray.
    I looked up at Major Murray, who seemed to have a single tear in his eye. But when he blinked it was gone. I’ll never know if it was really there, it could’ve been just my imagination. But I’ll never forget how proud he seemed of the St. Croix squadron on that day. A week of being crowded on a bus and too few showers lead up to a day that was worth it all. We had slept on floors in high school classrooms, dusty old armories and hotels that were in the wrong parts of town… But I certainly wasn’t complaining when I first laid my eyes on the cemetery as the sun rose behind it.
    I knew Major Murray for about three years, and he never ceased to amaze me. He could be the most strict man in the world and still crack a joke. He carried our squadron on his shoulders, and sometimes he'd get stressed out and tell Felicia and I about his problems. We'd always listen; we'd give very little feedback. Major Murray was almost always talking. He always had a joke to tell, a story to share or a direction to give. But this was the most silent I had seen him.
    I can remember the last thought I had before the group started to pack up and leave. I was thinking about Major Murray, and about how deep of an affect he had had on me.



2009...
    My father and I walked into the church without saying a word. I was wearing black. He was dressed in a suit and hadn’t said a word since we drove into town. I knew he probably had something to say; he probably just didn’t know how to say it. I had lots I wanted to say. In fact, I wanted to scream. But I couldn't find my voice.
    The church was full of people. It was overflowing with people. Even though the reason why everyone was there was bleak, there were bright flowers everywhere.
    Near the podium of the church, a large picture hung. It was of a jolly face that meant something to everyone in the room. Large blue eyes, a bushy white mustache and a bright, cheeky smile. I’d recognize Major Murray’s face anywhere. In the picture he wore a hat. He always wore a hat.
    Over a dozen of the people at the funeral were wearing uniforms. Some of them were cadets of Major Murray’s like I was. Many of them were men who also were veterans who knew Major Murray.
    Near the second doorway of the church stood a boy who was once a cadet with me. His eyes were bloodshot and red, his face was tired and sullen. I put my hand on his shoulder and didn’t say a word. This particular boy had been dealt a rotten hand in life. His only secure father figure was Major Murray.
    I found Felicia and we hugged without saying a word. Neither one of us could say anything. Both of us were mad. We were mad that he was gone. I was mad that someone so good could be taken.
    In the front pew of the church, I saw Captain Murray. Captain Murray was Major Murray’s wife, and she was also involved in the squadron. She had her hands folded in her lap, her face was dark. I could only imagine how she felt at that moment.
    My father and I found seats and waited for the ceremony to begin.
    The priest spoke briefly about how he only knew Major Murray briefly before he passed, but he knew how much he meant to everyone in our small community. He was not only the squadron leader, but he was a baseball and basketball coach. He also had grandchildren who loved him dearly. He was very involved in the community, which made many people come to adore him.
    His daughter came up to the podium to speak. She looked lovely but sad. Even though she must’ve been overwhelmed with emotion, she was able to deliver a wonderful speech.
    “My father lived life unlike anybody else. He was never okay with doing less then his best. He always wanted me to do my best. I knew he wouldn’t settle for anything less. He was a very serious man, but he could laugh harder then anybody.
    As most of you know, this funeral was postponed because I was states away and very pregnant and couldn’t fly. So I thank you for your patience. I wished my father could’ve met his new grandson, but I believe that Dad will always be with my son and I. Dad, I want you to know that you’re not as sneaky as you think. I know you’re here right now. I can tell when you’re around. You’ve never been subtle. I can remember being a kid and him trying to sneak up on me and scare me - you might’ve well as been a tap dancer trying to sneak into a silent movie.” The crowd laughed. She paused and smiled, “But I can tell that he’s been with me for a while. A week ago, I was outside getting into my car. My car was covered in butterflies. Butterflies of every color and kind. They looked beautiful. It was the craziest thing. I had never seen so many of them! But then one monarch butterfly flew up and landed on my shoulder. I always remembered how pretty you thought those butterflies were, Dad. Every spring when they would come out of hiding, you’d love to sit on your porch and watch them as they fly. I knew that that was you protecting me that day, Dad. I thank you for that, just as I thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me.
    My father put his heart and his soul into everything he did. Raising my siblings and I, running Civil Air Patrol and coaching the kids at school. Even when you went fishing, you wouldn’t just go for a couple of hours, it was always an every day event for you. You were never bored, Dad. You were the busiest person I’ve ever met. I’m also constantly on my feet, and I know I get that from you. Everything you ever taught me, I’m going to teach my first son. I knew how badly you wanted to meet him. He’d love you, I bet somehow he already does.
    But that’s all I really wanted to say, Dad. I love you. I miss you. I know you’re here now, thinking that I talk too much and that I’m too sappy. Not as many people knew your soft side like I did.
    I know you’re in heaven, and I know you’re in a better place. You’re not in pain anymore, and for that I’m glad. As selfish as it is to say that I want you here physically, I’m overwhelmed with joy that you’re here at least spiritually. I’ll see you again someday, but until then, I’ll talk to you every day.”
    When she stepped down from the podium, she looked strong. She knew that Major Murray was here with us that day. She was stronger then me. The tears were falling from my face in buckets. My dad didn’t know what to do, so he just comforted me. I wanted to be anywhere else. I wanted this all to be a sick joke.
    Major Murray’s ashes were placed in a local cemetery. Some, but not all, of the people from the ceremony followed the Murray family to the place where he was laid to rest. It was raining lightly, and my shoes were sticking to the mud as I walked with my father towards where he was being placed.
    I joined the rest of Major Murray’s former cadets. None of us said a word. We all dealt with this in our own private ways. As different as we all were, we all lost something. A mentor, a friend, a leader. The rain tapped on my head, but I didn’t care. I spent a good amount of time straightening my thick hair for today, but it didn’t matter to me that it was ruined. What mattered was the amazing person that was laid to rest. My thoughts were with him and his grieving family.
    Once the burial was over, I hugged my fellow cadets and shared words with them. I left them to say goodbye to Captain Murray.
    Behind her glasses, her brown eyes were small and puffy. She smiled as she saw me.
    “Hi, ma’am.” I said quietly and hugged her, “I miss him terribly.”
    She looked up at me, “I never told you, but you meant a great deal to my husband. Whenever he graded the squadron’s tests, he always wanted to grade yours first. He thought very highly of you, and I wanted you to know that.”
    I felt as if I had been kicked in the gut. I hadn’t seen Major Murray months before he passed. I'll never forget the last time I did see him.


"Well, howdy, stranger." Major Murray said, placing his items on my conveyer belt at the grocery store I worked at.                                                                                                                  
"Major Murray!" I remember crying happily. He was thinner and tanner then I had seen him. It was after he had the first heart attack and he was trying to clean up. He was purchasing some live bait and a Diet Pepsi. I'm not sure he drank anything other then Diet Pepsi. "You look great!" 
"Thanks," He said brightly, smiled, "I've been working hard to get healthier." 
"I miss everyone." 
He smiled faintly and nodded, "I do too. But I just couldn't do it anymore." 
I nodded, "I know, sir. I understand." 
He paid for his items and I put them in a plastic bag for him. 
"Thanks, Bergin." He said happily, "I'll see you around." 
"Bye, sir. Have fun fishing!" 
He smiled and waved to me as he left, looking so incredibly happy.


The squadron broke up after Major Murray had a bad heart attack. He was running it all practically alone, and the stress was killing him. He lost weight, he quit smoking, the squadron broke up, he eliminated all stress. But it didn’t matter, because not too long after the squadron broke up, he had the second heart attack that eventually killed him. I never visited him in the hospital once. He was there for weeks.
    A lump formed in my throat instantly. It took me a while to form a response, “That means a lot to me, ma’am.”
    She nodded and said goodbye, leaving me to stand there alone. I watched as she left and wished for time back. Why didn’t I go visit him? Why didn’t we try harder to keep the squadron together? Why did it get like this? Tears were falling from my face. I stood alone until my father came up behind me.
    “Let’s go home.” He said quietly, and I nodded. I turned and looked back at Major Murray’s grave. No number of words could express the feelings I felt as I saw that his grave was soon going to be left alone. How do I say goodbye appropriately?
    I took a few steps closer to his grave and smiled. I decided to say goodbye to him the most respectful way I knew.
    Goodbye, sir. I hope you're reunited with the friends you lost. 
    I miss you.
    I lifted up my left hand and saluted him, just like he taught me to, hoping that he was at peace wherever he was.