Songs from the Hope Well

               A Place for My Father

       I held you tight, trying my best to keep you warm. The longer I sat there in shock, the colder you became. You said that you’d be alright, that you had just pulled a muscle. I awoke to the sound of your violent convulsions. Now I sit with your lifeless body in my arms. The fire from last night is almost out now; its glow becoming dim. You were the strongest man I ever knew. The times you picked me up and threw me in the air. When the plant laid you off and Mom left, you promised that you would never leave. When they foreclosed on the house and we lived in the car, you made me feel safe. That was almost two years ago.

      You never denied me anything. Every Christmas under the tree was full. My soccer games that you never missed. The last bit of food we had when we had no idea when there would be more.  The car long abandoned and pushed out of sight. We walked this great land together. The land you defended; the land that had forgotten you. The calls for help were never returned. Agency after agency put us on lists. Family had no room and friends were no longer friends. We walked trying to hide my youth so I would not be taken away.

     In one more month I turn sixteen. The plan was, with two of us working, we could make a home. With no physical address and a pay as you go phone, no one would hire you. We did odd jobs to eat; things that no one else would do. I would finish school and things would be okay. We would have had a yard and a dog again. If I called the veterans, would they bury you? You had a fear of cremation, I remember you saying. If I buried you there in the woods, would I remember where?  I rocked back and forth praying for the first time in almost a year. A flash of the graveyard that we had past when entering this small town came to my mind.  Almost 2 AM, I wrapped you up tight in your blanket and began our last journey.

     The cemetery was large, with graves as far as I could see. In far distance I spotted a freshly dug grave. Walking upon it, I saw that the vault was not in place. I would have to work fast with only a camp shovel. A rope tied to a head stone to make my way out. Three hours till dawn, I dug as deep as I could. I pulled you down and gazed upon your face. I shook you one last time and put my ear to your heart, in hopes that I was wrong. Finally, I pinned your medals to your chest that I had pulled from your ruck sack. I laid you straight and folded your arms. There was no time to mourn. I wrapped your blanket around you as tight as I could, then begin to cover you with dirt. The smell of pine sap came off of your boots. From our last job that had taken your life. Slowly it faded as I covered you, then smoothed the earth in hope that no one would notice.

    I waited till twilight there by your side; remembering the hardship that we had endured those two years. The people who hated and feared us, treating us like animals. I would rather be an animal; they show one another more loyalty. I hid in a grove of trees as I watched the vault lowered. Then, knowing you were safe, I found a spout to wash up. I put on your good shirt, the one rolled to keep clean for interviews that never came. Upon my return the wait was not long. The cars lined up as far as the eye could see. The coffin was flag draped as four Marines bared it. Guns were fired and a horn was blown. It put my mind at ease of the worry that the graves occupant would be offended. I knew that he would not leave a brother behind.