I never was very close to my grandpa Remus. He just wasn't the kind of person that a young kid warmed up to. I didn't understand who he really was. For eighteen years I went with my dad to visit my Remus grandparents, but never seemed to get any closer to Ansel Remus. Looking back I wish I would have.
I thought October ninth was going to be like any other Tuesday, and until I got home it was just that. I hadn't been home for more than an hour when the phone rang. My dad was calling to give me the greatest responsibility Id ever had. He had been with his siblings, comforting their mother. I could hear the pain in his voice, the tightness in his chest, as he told me what was being requested of the eldest Remus grandsons. Grandma Remus wanted the six of us to be my grandfather's pallbearers.
The rest of the week went by excruciatingly slow, but then out of nowhere it was Sunday morning. That Sunday was as beautiful as any Sunday had ever been. The early morning sun played across the back country roads on the way to Galesville, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The butterflies my stomach had filled up with at the beginning of the drive, stayed with me the whole way. We arrived at the Galesville church to be met by surprising high spirits. This didn’t get rid of my butterflies. Slowly but surely the Remus family finished showing up and the six pallbearers met to have a brief rundown of the funeral.
The six of us were told to sit in the front row. We were the last people in the entire church to take our seats and it felt as though every person in that church watched our march up the center aisle. Every step we took brought us closer to the ice blue casket we were entrusted to carry. As we passed the second pew our grandmother broke down in tears, her emotions unable to be held in check any longer. She was but one of the many people to shed tears that day.
Despite the crying family members and the choked up speakers, my cousins and I remained stoic throughout the whole service. Before I knew it, it was time for the pallbearers to do their job. We stood up, full of purpose and honor. During the course of the funeral I had learned more about my grandfather than I had my entire life. I had never known my grandfather as being a war hero, I don't think anyone had. Three of us went to each side of the casket, all grasping the cold metal bars at its sides. At the same time, we all lifted. The six of us all bearing the weight of responsibility and the coffin.
Once we had loaded the casket into the hearse, the funeral procession snaked its way to the cemetery. That day at the cemetery is etched into mind as vividly as any picture. The 21-gun salute ringing out across the open fields as I stood next to my father, both of us showing our respects to a past hero. We all watched in silence as the American flag was folded and presented to my grandmother, who hugged it tightly to her chest. She looked then to my father and exteded her arms saying, "if any of us should have this, it should be the one who has served our country."
Looking back at the time spent with Grandpa Remus, I really wish I would have gotten to know him better. I wish I could have learned more about who he was and what he had been through. I'm glad that I still have grandparents that are part of my life and I cherish my time with them.