Rick’s wife of 37 years died in February, 2010. Her urn had held a place of honor in his home office ever since. Highest on his list of “final requests” was his desire for the two of them to have their urns buried together at Willamette National Cemetery.
He was insistent that his Interment would include a Color Guard for the flag ceremony and the Marine Corps Honor Guard—it had to be the Marines, no matter what! He also wanted the 21-gun Salute, and the playing of Taps, both of which are pretty standard in a military ceremony.
Rick got everything he wanted.
And with a little help from Divine Intervention, so did I.
Five days before the scheduled Interment, the morning televised Portland weather forecast said we were in for a solid week of rain. That, of course, was simply unacceptable.
“Rick!” I shouted skyward. “Do something! It needs to sunshine on Monday! You said you’d give me a clear sign, something I couldn’t miss, and I’m asking for a sunny day when we gather at the cemetery! Do you have any pull up there? Can you make this happen?” I paused—waiting, I suppose, for some immediate answer.
I looked over at the clock. It was 8 a.m. Of course it was 8 a.m. We had talked at that particular time almost every day for five years.
It rained on Sunday. The temperature was in the low 60s. But on Monday, there was a sudden day of the most glorious sunshine ever. There was plenty of blue sky giving a backdrop to a hedge of bright red rhododendrons, a light breeze unfurled the flag, and the temp hit 76 degrees. Then on Tuesday, it rained again.
I have no doubt Rick had a hand in that fortuitous weather break. You did good, my BCB.
Go in peace, my dear and beloved best friend:
“Your Service here is done, Sir.”