Within the bone
Is marrow
Within my heart
Is an old story
With a new ending

Once we were
A family of three
I, the child
And in our marrow
Was faith and trust
But when Dad died
Some of it left with him

Mother’s pain and mine
Served not to ease
But to sharpen the other’s
As I grew up
I did my part to hurt
And she did hers
All the more
After Dad’s mortal coil
Returned to dust

With each passing day
She and I grew farther apart
Misunderstandings
Heightening the evanescence
Of our fragile bond
I never knew whether
Her actions were deliberate
This I know: I managed his
Obituary and funeral
While she alone
Decided the fate of his ashes
And the absence
Of a marker
For his life

Gradually
I accepted
This exclusion
A compound loss
Over which I
Was powerless
I, the only other
One of the three
Remaining, I
Stored it all
Forced it down
In the marrow
Of my bones
Where I could not
Feel anything
Where I could remember
If I tried
But I did not

I was twenty four
Then, and soon
It will be
Thirty years since
Dad passed
On the Sunday
Of Thanksgiving
Mother herself lived
Twenty more

At some point
I asked her
What she did
With his ashes
And she laughed
Telling me
She scattered him
At the cemetery
Where her father
Uncle and cousins
Rested, where
Eventually
She would too

The End
(or so
it seemed)

*

At the end
Of this August
Someone sent me
A correspondence request
For Dad’s military records
I filled it out
And at September’s end
They arrived in triplicate
Pages called a DD 214
Words revealing
My father’s service
For eighteen months
A month for every year
Of his young life
On the high seas
Of World War II

We look at the papers
Which seem to say
Little, but translated
Mean much
He was an
Officer, Purser
Merchant Mariner
(just last year a medal
was bestowed
upon this branch, slow
was the recognition
of its valor, the
highest casualty rate
of all the American
military services
during that time)
Then I learn that
These slim papers
Indicating his service
And honorable discharge
At war’s end
Mean he might be able
To receive a headstone

At this point
I do not believe it
I plan to prove it wrong
When I receive
Another form
VA40-1330
I read it carefully
Skeptically, afraid
To get my hopes up
“VA will furnish…
A headstone to
Commemorate…
A veteran
Whose remains…
  were…
  scattered…
  or buried at sea…
unrecovered or
unidentified…
  donated to science…”
I read all the fine print
And read it again
Just to be sure
Including the parts
I skipped as irrelevant
Which calm me
Circumstance
May differ, but
I am not alone

With this, what
I had stored away
Tight in my bones
For decades
Begins to loosen
Tears begin to fall
I cannot seem
To stop them

My dear dad
Who lived, served
Loved, worked
Married, worked
Parented, loved more
Worked more
And finally let go—
Who left behind
The product of his labor
A home for my mother
For me and ultimately
For the granddaughter
He never knew—
At long last
There will be a marker
For his life

Using a fountain pen
Inked with tears
I complete the request
Adding: please put
“Beloved father”
On the stone
Then I sign my name
Below the line
“Applicant is”
Daughter
Such a simple word
Next I call the cemetery
They remember me
From helping
With my mother
And they handle
Dad’s paperwork
Well familiar
With this process

After Mother died I found
A letter he wrote to her
On Memorial Day, 1977
While we were away
He reported having been
To this same cemetery
Having paid his respects
He reflected, “It is
A very peaceful place
There, where we will rest
And it is satisfying to know
That, even though I have
Never seriously considered
My own death… except
For the not-too-shocking
Fact that some day
It will happen. Not very
Soon, I hope, for all
Three of us!”

At the end of October
His headstone arrived
And at the start
Of November
It was installed
Almost exactly
Thirty years after he left us
It is located
Next to his wife
Of thirty-seven years
Near her father
And her uncle
Whom Dad called a friend
A very peaceful place
There, where they rest
As they planned
Long ago, a place
Where the three of us
Used to go
And leave flowers
With our prayers

*

As each step
Of this progresses
My back feels
Ever more straight
My heart more open
My bitterness less
(although now
I am back to being
partly in shock
it has been so long
to have carried
this wrong)
What do I do
with this lightness?
With the end
Of resentment?
Is it possible
To forgive
It all away?

Almost four years ago
When my daughter
Was on the approach
To eighteen herself
I went to the local court
Received a decree
And proudly returned
To my father’s name
I am and always have been
His daughter
Much as I am
And always have been
My very own self
I was born of his love
Forged of his concern
And made safe
By his protection

Each day that passes
I take this newfound
Lightness and plant
Fresh seeds
Of faith and trust
Within the marrow
Of my bones
Alongside a story
Within my heart
About how one day
Long after injury
Things can turn out
To be right and just
After all

Rest in peace, Daddy.

*******

For all veterans—and to those who made this honoring of the Merchant Marines possible—my humblest and greatest thanks.

To those who brought me the documents that opened this door of reconciliation,I am eternally grateful.

* Vater Schläft — was the hand-painted sign on Dad’s dressing room door, “Father is sleeping,” in German – my mother’s maternal heritage.

Veterans Day, 2023

These are the medals he earned.
Had he lived until May 2022, he (and all other living Merchant Mariners) would have received the center one, a beautiful replica of The Congressional Gold Medal of Honor. https://www.defense.gov/News/News-Stories/Article/Article/3037882/wwii-merchant-mariners-receive-congressional-gold-medal/