Memorial Day Remembrance

Sitting on the old black oak, where we used to fish together, lost in the past, I think back, and remember a better day. You wrote to me about your new ship, and new friends, and your new Pontiac, with only twenty-two payments left to pay. The morning's rain left the air heavy, like my heart, as I coax my line and bobber to and fro. I can't find any explanation for this world, or reason for why you had to go. Last watch was nearly over, time to hit the cot, two exocet missiles hit port-side, your stricken ship never fired a shot. Two days later, from the fantail of the USS Conyngham (DDG-17), Senior Enlisted CPO, tall and proud, left over from an older Navy, turned his head down, and away, with shoulders heaving, eyes sunken and red, that Chief cried like a little baby. Things didn't turn out quite as we had planned, I was supposed to be your son's Godfather, And you were supposed to be my Best Man. I pull up my line and tackle, to answer nature's call, the stream splashed down to meet the river, and Marshal Tucker Band played on the truck radio. I reach into my pocket, and pull out two pieces of metal, hanging from a faded chain, gleaming, they gently clink. Name, branch, social, blood type, and religion tell the tale... thrown now into the river's, deeping, I watch them quickly sink.