The Community Word

Less than two weeks before the somber moment pictured above was captured on film, my husband and I sat with his father in a Peoria Illinois restaurant. All was normal. He was well. We chatted, he asked us questions about our welfare, and we answered each one while he ate a huge plate of food - more than we had ever seen him eat in the two years he had been with us following the death of his dear wife of 53 years.

Less than a week later he was gone. We laid him to rest next to his wife in Glendale, Arizona the following week.

When we pulled into the cemetery on that sweltering Monday morning in May, 2007, my mind snapped a picture of the honor guard preparing to perform honorary ceremonies a short distance from the casket. They were standing near their vehicle perfecting their uniforms and reviewing their formations.

Though I quickly turned my attention to the tent where we were all to gather for the final ceremony that would commit my dear father-in-law to the earth, I was still aware of the guard. Their presence behind us was strong, though they made not a noise. When it was time for them to honor one of their own, I glanced over my shoulder and saw that from the edge of their parked vehicle all the way down the narrow road to the casket their eyes were fixed and they never once broke their gaze. There was no rush in their motions, no break in their stance.

When taps was played, my heart leapt into my throat and I could not contain the rush of tears from my eyes. This quiet, solemn tune beckoned to the entire world, “A soldier is at rest. Stop, and pay homage.”

The Honor Guard marched to the casket draped in our beautiful flag and stood as speechless pillars supporting an age-old monument. Their post at either end of their fellow serviceman spoke volumes. In perfect unison, their hand lifted in a final salute to the flag they served – to the man who served the flag that covered him.

With precision and grace they folded Old Glory to a perfect triangle. When only one possessed it, he bowed and presented it to the only daughter of the deceased and, ‘On behalf of a grateful nation,’ laid it in her hands.

Arthur J. Semick was one of millions who have received such honor at their graveside, and like each of them, he was one in a million. Serving country and family, Art sacrificed to the greater good, stood tall in character and labored hard for freedom and the American dream. His legacy and vision for a better life for his children and grandchildren can only be comprehended by those who understand selflessness.

How then can we celebrate our nation’s birth this July without first understanding the price paid for our freedom? Stop, and pay homage to our soldiers at rest, our fallen, our missing, and to all who still stand guard.