“I’m rather fond of corn on my pizza,” Lili chimes in. We all fall silent and just stare at her. She huffs after a moment, “Oi! Dinnae knock ‘til ye try it, tis good.”
“Ewww! That’s gross!” Ellie cringes, mainly to parrot Ford and Shark’s words to be cute and funny, which she is. We all laugh again.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Shark shakes his head, Ellie doing the same. These two are super close. Two peas in pod.
“Don’t worry, babe,” I wrap an arm around her, “I’ll brave corn on my pizza, just for you.” I mock a bit, wanting to get in on this.
The mood lightens. I’ve missed these moments.
“Come off it.” Lili sighs, exasperated, and slaps my chest playfully.
With everyone in agreement on where to go from here, we get ready to head out.
“Good to see you, Little Bear.” Shark is first to set his coins on the headstone next to the abundance of other stacks, Ford following suit but not repeating Shark’s words. It’s the same coins I have in my closed fist.
A penny, a dime, and a quarter.
A penny means you have visited the grave.
A nickel means we went to basic together. We didn’t.
A dime means we served together.
And a quarter means I was there when he died.
Everyone starts back to their vehicles, laughing and joking to keep the mood alive. Lili asks Ford if she and Hank can ride with him, making everyone turn back around in question as they find me in the same spot, unmoving. I lock eyes with my men, they nod once in understanding. Lili wanted me to do this solo.
Can I do this mission solo? What if I need her?
Just breathe.Lili’s words give me encouragement.
“Go on. I’ll be there shortly. There’s something I need to do first.”
This is long overdue, an awareness of how long I’ve kept my distance and wallowed in self-pity is ever present.
It ends today.
“We’ll be sure to save you some scraps, Corporal.” Ford quips, giving a finger wave to confirm he’s going to take care of my woman.
In the distance car doors shut, engines rev to life, and gravel crunches, the sign of all departing, leaving me alone.
Am I really here alone, though?
Hundreds of gravestones surround me, saying otherwise.
It’s a sense of coming home in a way.
I place my stack of coins next to the other ones then kneel to get a better understanding of just how cold this existence would be if I were here, six-feet under. Silence reigned, no birds, no breeze.
Just me and this slab of granite with Owen’s markings.
Owen Victor Jacobs
Private US Marine Corps
October 13, 1995
May 14, 2014