This took over my head last year, but I couldn't get it finished in time for Memorial Day. It's been waiting ever since.
This uses a different set of kids for Phineas and Isabella than my normal set, mostly because it was originally written before I finalized Becky et al.
Isabella wandered out to the kitchen to find Phineas finishing up his preparations. The small flag and vase of flowers sat on the table as he wolfed down a granola bar for his breakfast.
"If you're up to some company, the boys said they'd like to go along with you," she told him.
He started, not having noticed her approach, and turned to his wife with a thin smile on his face. "That would be good. They're old enough for this now."
A little voice behind her cheered, and Michael raced in to give his father a hug, his twin Arthur quietly following just behind. Phineas knelt down to hug his five-year-old sons. "This isn't just a fun trip," he told them. "There will be some sad stories. Are you guys up for that?"
Michael said, "Yes!" emphatically, while Arthur smiled and nodded.
"Okay, then. Let's go," Phineas said.
"Are we almost there?" Michael asked from the back seat.
"Just about," Phineas responded.
Phineas turned off the main road and into Danville National Cemetery, pulling into a parking space. He shook his head at how empty the parking lot was. Today of all days, he thought, this place should be busy.
He gave the flag to Michael and the flowers to Arthur, then led the boys along to his destination. Off in the distance, he saw a troop of Boy Scouts out planting flags on unadorned graves.
"What is this, Dad?" Michael asked.
"Today is Memorial Day, boys. Today we honor those who gave their lives in the service of our country. People like your grandfather."
They stopped in front of a simple white headstone. A cross marked the top of it; underneath it read:
FREDERICK
ARTHUR
FLYNN
SGT
US ARMY
APR 17 1975
NOV 11 2004
OPERATION
IRAQI FREEDOM
BELOVED HUSBAND
AND FATHER
A flag and basket of flowers already sat in front of it. "I see Candace has been here already," Phineas said as he planted the flag and placed the flowers next to Candace's.
Michael looked at the tombstone, uncomprehending. "But Grampa is still alive. Both Grampas."
Phineas knelt down to look across at Michael, running his fingers through the boy's bright red hair. "Grampa Lawrence is Ferb's father. He married my mother - Gramma Linda - when I was very young. My biological father was Frederick. Your brother Arthur, and your cousin Fred, are both named for him. Grampa Lawrence was such a great father to me and Candace that it's easy to forget about Frederick. Which is why I make a point to come out here every year for Memorial Day. I should do more, but..."
Michael's eyebrows furrowed. "How did he die?"
"He was driving a truck carrying supplies. Somebody planted a bomb beside the road. It blew up and destroyed his truck."
Michael looked disappointed. "Oh. That's it?"
Phineas shook his head. "It's an important job. What, you're thinking he should have died throwing himself on a grenade to save others?"
Michael, his eyes watering, nodded. Arthur spoke up and said, "He's still a hero."
Phineas nodded and rubbed his quiet son's short black hair. "Yes, he is. He wanted to serve his country, so he volunteered for the army. He was making sure the troops on the front lines had the food and ammunition they needed to keep fighting. He died doing his duty."
Michael wiped away some tears and asked, "Did you know him?"
Phineas shook his head. "I don't remember him. I was barely three. Candace remembers him."
"What was he like?" Arthur asked quietly.
"According to Gramma Linda, he was tall, with blond hair. He liked carpentry, and swimming, and drawing. And he loved his wife and children very very much."
"It doesn't seem fair," Michael said. "Why did he have to die? What was he fighting for?"
"It's...complicated," Phineas said with a grimace. "Our country had been attacked, and he joined up to help defend it. And that fight spread into another country, and we were trying to stabilize it when he was killed. Sometimes...people die. Sometimes, it's not fair."
"Did you ever go fight? Will you ever have to?" Michael asked with concern in his voice.
Phineas gave his son a comforting hug. "I didn't, and I don't think I'll have to. I considered joining the Army, but...Gramma Linda asked me not to. Even though we weren't fighting anyone by then, she was scared of what might happen. And your Mom was even more scared. So I chose not to."
The boys nodded. "I don't think I will either," Michael said.
"That's okay. You don't have to. If you choose to when you're older...well, we'll worry about you, but we'll be proud of you too, okay?"
"Okay," Michael said.
"Come on, let's go get some breakfast," Phineas said. "You've got a lot to think about here, and bet you'd do better with some pancakes in you."
"Let's go!" Michael said, leading the way back to the car. Phineas followed, pausing after a few steps to look back at Arthur. The boy was looking at the headstone; after a moment, he stood up straight and saluted it before dashing after his father and twin. Phineas put his hand on the boy's shoulder as they left the grave behind.