The Call of Duty

Jim drove up the county road that led to the cemetery.  He got out of his car and grabbed the flowers off the car seat.  He walked to the graves and just stood there looking at them in silence.  Five days since the accident, he thought, just five days.  He knelt between the two graves, put half of the flowers on his mom’s grave and half on his dad’s.  He got up and walked to the foot of the graves, stood there quietly, and knelt again.  He clasped his hands together, put them to his chin, and talked to his parents, “Mom and Dad, I love you and I miss you so much.  I’m going to miss the things we would have done together.  You won’t even get to be a grandma and grandpa-- I know you would have loved that.”  His lip began to quiver, but he held himself from crying.

He looked at the headstones and thought about what a good family man his father was.  His inner strength had led the family, and his toughness had overcome any crisis, no matter how serious.  “Damn, Dad, you really were something special to a lot of people.  You always helped anyone who needed help.  I remember so many occasions.  Father John would call and ask you to donate money to help a family in need.  You never refused him.  When the Rengels’ home burned down, you let them stay with us until they found shelter with relatives in Minneapolis.  Mom, Dad, I know you loved each other, and I know that God found room for you both.”

He looked at the grave and remembered his father’s favorite saying.  Whenever he saw Jim having a struggle with life, his father would smile and say, “Son when the going gets tough, the tough--”  He thought of their small house on Breckenridge Avenue.  His father worked at the paper mill in Sartell.  He was a log pitcher making $8.00 an hour.  He came home late at night because he often had to work overtime.  Then one day, when Jim was in third grade, his dad came home, hugged his mom, and announced, “I passed my real estate exam and will get my license in a month or so.”  Jim smiled at the memory of the first time his dad had walked out of the bedroom wearing a suit and tie, carrying a briefcase.

His mom hugged him, smiled, and whispered, “Go get ‘em Tiger.”

“You sure went and got ‘em, Tiger,” Jim muttered.  “You did well with that briefcase, Dad.  Thanks for your strength.”

Looking at his mother’s grave, he could only think of her love for music.  She made him start piano lessons at the age of six, and made him practice an hour each day, and sometimes even more when he got bucky about it.  Whenever he resisted, dad would say, “Son, your Mother is in charge of the music in this house, and I have no say in the matter except to say, I’m on her side.  I think you better do as she asks as far as practice goes.  Someday you will appreciate her for making you do it.”

“I do appreciate it, Mom.  I really do.”

When he was ten, she took him to St. John’s University to try out for the boys’ choir.  The choir was famous for its concerts in the United States and Europe.  Jim grinned remembering how nervous he had been when his mother drove him to the auditions.  After getting there, Brother Paul had him sing one note at a time for fifteen minutes.  On the drive home, mom said, “Jim, you passed with flying colors.  You are in the boys’ choir.  I know that you’ll do well, but it will be extra work.  Brother Paul said that you would eventually get to sing a solo.”

Jim stood and thought about how mad he would get at her for the pressure to do well, “Someday, I will make you proud of me.  I will try to make it my life.”  He stood there in silence and prayed.  “Mom, Dad, please don’t worry about me.  I will find a way through life – thanks to both of you.”  He wanted to cry, but thought about his dad, and held it back.

The hand on his shoulder startled him.  He turned around and saw the Millers, his next door neighbors.  “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, I didn’t expect you.”  He glanced back at the graves, “I was so intent on saying a final goodbye that you kind of took me by surprise.”  Jim saw that Julie was holding two bouquets of flowers.  After she hugged Jim, she knelt and placed them by the headstones.  After a brief prayer, she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, but she was crying too hard.  Jim saw the tears in Roger’s eyes too and helped Julie to her feet while he gave her a hug.  “Thanks for being such a good friend to them.  They loved both of you very much, more than you will ever know.  Besides, it’s OK.  They’re both with God now.  Take comfort in that.  I have....  I have taken a lot of comfort from that.”  Jim put his arms out, pulled the Millers into his chest, and hugged them both tightly.