Beyond the Point(113)

Tim stood at the center of the room, dressed in jeans and a white polo shirt, surrounded by hundreds of candles, dancing their golden light against the walls. Yellow rose petals had been strewn across the floor, lining a curved path between them. She walked across the petals slowly, her hands clasped over her mouth, in shock. She knew what this meant, and yet, she couldn’t believe it was true. He wanted her. Forever.

He’d had tears in his eyes when she reached him. “Hannah,” he said calmly. “You are beautiful, inside and out. You are smart and courageous and strong. You are forgiving and kind. And patient—Lord knows you’re patient. You love your friends so deeply and I’ve been the grateful recipient of that love, even when I didn’t deserve it. I’ve loved you for the last three years, but if you’ll let me, I want to love you for the rest of my life.”

He’d lowered down to one knee, pulled out a small box, and before he could even ask the question, Hannah was laughing and trembling, down on her knees right next to him.

“Yes,” Hannah had said, wrapping her hands around his face. “Yes!”

He’d opened the box, slipped the platinum ring around her finger, just as the door to the ballroom opened again. Before she could turn to see what was happening, Dani and Avery had run up to scream and jump and hug her, as if they’d been listening with their ears pressed against the door. Then Hannah’s family walked in—her parents, Emily and her husband, her grandparents. Mark and Wendy. All of Tim’s friends from the parachuting team. Everyone filed in, and without hesitation, they all were dancing and hugging and celebrating. Unselfishly, Tim had known that she would want to share that moment with everyone she loved most. Turning back to look at him, she’d seen joy in his eyes, as he watched her relish her moment as the center of attention.

Now all those people were gathered here again, for such a different purpose. The memory ended and she stared ahead at the gray sky, surrounded by darkness, listening to the sound of her own breathing. He was gone. There was nothing she could do to undo what had been done. There was no rewind button, no do-overs. Overwhelmed and letting the tears fall quietly, she tried to picture his face as she’d dreamed it: lit by candles, full of joy. Instead of how she’d seen it in the morgue. It was a battle she knew she’d have to fight for the rest of her life.

Around her, hundreds of white tombstones snaked through the grass, rows and rows of lost sons and daughters. It struck her then that as soon as she walked away, Tim’s tombstone would become anonymous to the visitors who walked these grounds every day. Her husband. Her philosopher. Her lover. Her friend. A striking visual. Another tomb of another unknown soldier.

A line of seven soldiers shattered the noiselessness, cocking their rifles. All seven pointed their guns at an angle, then fired, sending a violent burst of gunpowder and smoke into the sky.

A second round of shots was fired.

Then a third.

All three volleys from all seven guns emitted a sour, metallic odor. Then the smoke wafted away.

A lone officer under a canopy of red leaves raised his trumpet. He played taps. The song of a long, hard day of work, and a well-earned night of rest. Two sluggish and lonely stanzas, ending in one echoing note of finality. Then everything was quiet again.

She wanted to stop time and hold on to all of the memories, because the greatest injustice was that those memories would fade into sepia tones. Her brain wouldn’t remember what her heart had seen. Not perfectly. Not in full color. He was gone, and soon time would rob her of what little she had left.

The men raised the American flag that had been draped over the casket, then began a choreographed and unhurried dance, passing hand over gloved hand, end over end, folding the flag thirteen times until it became a triangle of stars. Then the eight honor guards moved the triangle slowly through the air down the middle of the casket—it floated—until it was pressed firmly into the hands of an officer at the head of the grave.

Turning, he took four deliberate steps and bowed before Hannah with one knee on the grass. He raised the folded flag up, offering it to her as a gift.

How many days earlier had she been kneeling in the dirt, offering a soccer ball to a young boy, hoping he would believe the words that were coming out of her mouth? A year? A decade? The boy had spit on her shoulder. He didn’t have the strength to accept a gift, knowing that gift had been tainted. Hannah looked at the flag and had the same dismal thought. She didn’t want the flag. She wanted Tim.

“On behalf of the president of the United States, the United States Army, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service,” he said.

Placing one trembling hand on top of the flag and another on the bottom, Hannah received it from this man who wanted nothing more than to soothe her pain. Did he know he was making it worse?

Hannah didn’t yell, holding her hands up to the sky, screaming at this injustice. She held the flag in her lap and did her duty to hold her emotions in check. Just a little bit longer. A single tear fell from her cheek as they lowered his casket into the ground.

He would never come back to her. And though she was surrounded by more than five hundred people who loved her, Hannah knew the truth.

She was alone.





34


December 5, 2006 // Arlington, Virginia

An hour after the reception started, the line to speak with Hannah hadn’t shrunk at all. Dani went to the table of refreshments, picked up three water bottles, and walked them over to Hannah and Tim’s parents, who accepted them with gratitude.