Posted by Brian George Hagedon on April 19, 2014:

Dad's Memorial 2002.11.19 My birthday @ 45 West Point, New York Place of my birth. It was a chilly overcast day It was a solemn day. It was a silent day. It was a day of reflection. Emotions return. West Point is beautiful in the fall, a time before winter, a time of dying. Trees were bare but several still clung to the last colors of fall. The reds, yellows and browns contrasted with the gray background of West Point. The leafless trees held gently the cold in their branches. They stood tall and majestic throughout this place. It is a place of training, discipline and education but it is also a place of families, growing up, playing in the snow, swimming in the ponds, exploring the springs, making memories and a place of new life. I am prouder today than ever of being born at West Point. I thought this day, this is dad. This is his history. This is his life. This is where he should rest, Duty, Honor, Country. It is a sad and proud moment to watch your dad, carried by the Honor Guard with the American flag draped over his coffin. The respect and honor given are a solemn tribute for the years of service in the Army. As we watched the six step in time, I imagine my dad marching right alongside. Dressed in his cadet uniform he is straight, tall and proud. The walk is not long, but l know it is the last. It is hard to watch but cannot look away. Slowly with each step they are closer to dad's final resting place. We stand and watch with tears in our eyes and on our cheeks. The cold surrounded us. For a moment the air stood still. In steady rhythm the march closes the distance to the grave. Too many thoughts pass in those few moments. Why now? What I regret. I want to see you one more time. I miss you. I love you. They stop just beyond the grave and turn in unison to face the man under the flag. Slowly they side step maneuvering the coffin over the dark opening in the ground. Finally he is in position, a few feet from his physical eternal resting place. The men on each side touch the corners and middle of the flag and gently lift it just so. It appears to just hoover flat over Dad like the flag is his soul waiting to be set free. The chaplain begins. His words soft and kind reminding us that evening of life has come but it is also the dawn of a new day. He shares scriptures that Karen wrote down, words of hope and comfort. Matt 25:23 23 The master said, `Well done, my good and faithful servant. You have been faithful in handling this small amount, so now I will give you many more responsibilities. Let's celebrate together!' Romans 8:38-39 38 And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from his love. Death can't, and life can't. The angels can't, and the demons can't. Our fears for today, our worries about tomorrow, and even the powers of hell can't keep God's love away. 39 Whether we are high above the sky or in the deepest ocean, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord. I spoke and Gary spoke. We all said the Lord's Prayer together. As the prayer ended the hands holding the flag began folding it with calculated precision. First they folded in the Center then quarter. Triangular folds followed one on top of the other as cloth passed from hand to hand. At the last hands the flag tucked and pulled neat and tight until the fabric lay folded just right. The blue triangle with white stars was passed to the ranking officer who presented it to the youngest son. In concert soldiers raised their rifles and fired on command. The sound was sharp and loud piercing the quiet afternoon. Three times they lifted their weapons, they cracked and echoed. When the last sound had faded, a lone trumpet sounded soft and low the familiar notes which close the day. Each note had meaning today, a tribute to a life lived in service, a tribute to our Dad. As the service ended we lingered. There was no hurry to leave this place. No rush to move on. This was the most important thing. There was regret that it was over so quickly. I wanted time to pause. I wanted time to reflect. I wanted time to stand still. In the mourning details go un-noticed. Right next to my Dad's grave standing straight and tall is a tree. It was one of the only trees that still had leaves clinging to the branch tips as if waiting for this day. This is a special place reserved for my Dad, Lt. Col. George G. Hagedon. We were told that he must have been special to be buried in the old quadrant of West Point Cemetery. We know he was to us. As we walked slowly from the site, a part of us remained. I will hold this place in my heart, always. It is in times such as these we contemplate who we are, were we came from, and value life as never before. Ecclesiastes 7:2-4 2 It is better to spend your time at funerals than at festivals. For you are going to die, and you should think about it while there is still time. 3 Sorrow is better than laughter, for sadness has a refining influence on us. 4 A wise person thinks much about death, while the fool thinks only about having a good time now.

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