I visited Arlington National Cemetery recently on a pilgrimage.
It wasn’t my first visit, of course, but it’s always poignant to ride the bus tour and view the headstones.
White stones cover hills and dales, all reflecting the loss of lives in conjunction with military service.
Some gravestones are elaborate and readable from the bus.
Most, however, are not.
For me, as a “retired” Navy wife, the rows remind me I could join the ranks of my fellow military wives.
It’s sobering.
But real.
Famous people
Many famous people rest in Arlington National Cemetery.
As I wrote in a post following the last visit, several influenced my life.
Admiral Hyman Rickover’s grave always prompts memories of the man who oversaw most of my husband’s US Navy career.
His wife Eleonore will be buried with him some day, but the plucky retired Navy Commander remains alive.
She’s blessed many over the years, including an ailing sailor’s wife long ago.
Crowds disembark to admire the Kennedy family’s poignant graves.
Even more visit the tomb of the unknown soldier, guarded day and night.
Supreme Court justices, famous generals, senators, astronauts; they lie under granite tombstones.
But I was on a pilgrimage to Arlington National Cemetery.
Some
one I loved is now buried there.
It was time to visit her.
Boat wives
When a submarine goes to sea, a Navy wife stays behind living her “normal” life with family, friends, job.
On a fast attack submarine, the deployments can last for months on end.
It’s easy to lose track of your spouse; certainly their whereabouts are a mystery.
But as time passes, you sometimes almost forget who you’re married to–even what your spouse looks like.
The best people to understand are the people “in the same boat” as you.
I’ve always referred to them as my “boat wives.”
Those strong women are the reason I survived so many challenging deployments in a row.
No one understood my life as well as the boat wives.
Young in memory
My friend died six years ago. This was my first trip back to DC in ten years.
I got directions from her widower and after the Arlington National Cemetery bus tour, I picked up a pass and drove to the gravesite.
It didn’t take long to find her. She lies on a knoll near the Pentagon.
On that quiet sunny day, I startled a deer.
I’d started crying when I entered the cemetery and could hardly control myself on the bus.
When I reached her grave, I lost my emotions completely.
Too, too young–in death and in memory.
Four years older, more experienced as a Navy wife, I arrived at the submarine a few months before she did.
My friend was fresh from her honeymoon, her face shining with happiness and a determination to be a good Navy wife.
We spent three years together waiting for our husbands to come home from sea.
The boat wives threw her a baby shower, brought her dinners following the birth of her first child.
Together we laughed at our engineer husbands’ foibles.
With other wives, we commiserated over the men’s crazy schedules.
We loved each other–in words and deeds.
Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep–that’s what boat wives do together.
Among friends
She’s in good company among combat veterans, old and young.
But as I sat on the grass, through my tears I saw the names of military wives inscribed on the white stones.
That made me feel better.
Died too young, but buried with her kind at Arlington National Cemetery.
Thank you, Americans, for providing a beautiful place to remember our military dead.
Tweetables
A poignant visit to a friend at Arlington National Cemetery. Click to Tweet
A pilgrimage to Arlington National Cemetery to see a friend. Click to Tweet
What a touching post. I am sorry for the loss of your friend, thankful for the service of your family and hers, and in awe of the strength of all our military families.
Thank you, Sarah, it was a hard afternoon.