Chapter 8 - THE GRAVESIDEThe graveside service was held under a slate-gray Tennessee sky, the crisp November wind rustling the turning leaves of the oak trees in the cemetery behind the church.
Only a small circle remained—General Vance, a few of my father’s closest veteran friends, Emily, and me.
As the honor guard folded the American flag that draped my father’s casket, the sharp, rhythmic crack of a three-volley rifle salute pierced the quiet afternoon air.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
A bugler began playing the haunting, beautiful notes of Taps, the melody echoing across the rolling hills of Cedar Creek.
I stood at strict attention, holding my salute until the final note faded into the wind.
When the ceremony concluded, the honor guard commander stepped forward, carefully knelt, and presented the folded triangular flag to me as the eldest surviving service member.
"On behalf of a grateful nation, and a very proud father," the young sergeant said softly, handing me the flag.
I accepted it, pressing the heavy canvas against my chest, feeling the tears trace warm paths down my cold cheeks.
Emily stepped up beside me, slipping her hand into mine. Her fingers were trembling, but her grip was strong.
"I'm so sorry, Sarah," Emily whispered, her voice breaking. "I didn't know. I was so young when you left, and Mom filled my head with so many stories... I thought you just didn't care about us."
May you like
I turned, wrapping my free arm around my sister and pulling her close.
"I know, Em," I murmured, kissing the top of her head. "You don't have to apologize. We have time now. All the time in the world."
