rejazzz: Read and see what happens :)
Brown eyed Girl 75: If it had been Craig who'd gone to her first it might've been too much too soon. It's important that it happened so soon, and you'll see part of the reason why in this first chapter. Thanks for the review, love
katydid13: This is what happens next.
A/N: I would encourage everyone reading to have tissues handy for this chapter. If your keyboard gets wrecked because you're crying, I claim no responsibility. You have been warned.
ooOoo
We'll lower him down on a golden chain. Walk him along, John, carry him along. On every inch we'll carve his name. Carry him to his burying ground
General Taylor- Great Big Sea
ooOoo
Once we settled back into the routine and familiarity of the University of Minnesota's ice, I decided, even though it would break my heart, and more than likely leave Jack and Jimmy without a friend, I had to do it. I had to ask Herb if I could leave.
I made my way to his office and knocked on the door.
"Yeah?"
"Herb…"
He looked up at me over the top of his glasses. Seeing how red my eyes must've been, his expression immediately softened. "Everything okay?"
"Uh, not really…" I answered. I'm sure this was the first time he'd ever seen me express emotion.
"Come on in, sit down," he told me. I obeyed and waited till he said something. I handed him the letter I'd received, and told him I had to go back. I was Gary's next of kin, and I had to receive his body. Until he landed on Canadian soil, and his casket laid to rest, and his flag handed to me, he was the property of the Canadian Army.
I don't remember saying goodbye to the team, because I don't think I did. I think I saw Herb nod, telling me that there was no way he would make me take care of the team till I taken care of myself. Once I knew that my brother was safe again, and when I felt better, he'd be glad to hire me again.
I don't remember the flight back to St. John's airport, but I remember Marcie came to meet me. She hugged me tightly and told me my mother was waiting at their house, helping Bane with Charlie and the girls.
I barely remember saying anything once I got in the door. I know all I had to do was take one look at my mother, hold up the letter, and fling myself into her arms. She sat me down on the couch and stroked my hair as I cried. I knew she was upset too, but she didn't show it. My mother was funny that way. Marcie made a pot of tea and sat down with us while Bane got the kids into bed.
I know the funeral was arranged by the Army. Any time a soldier died serving their country, they were given a proper send off. I don't remember writing the eulogy, I know I wrote one, because if no one who knew him said anything at his funeral, then we would not be able to accept that he was really gone.
ooOoo
The day of the funeral, I stood up in front of our entire town, and said what I needed to say. I only had a day or two to write it, so I just put pencil to paper, and the entire eulogy spilled out.
If you'd like to hear what I wrote, here it is. Please know that it was the worst, most difficult thing I'd ever done, but I needed to do it. Please don't judge our family on what you see here. This is my goodbye to the greatest man I think I'll ever know, and I am choosing to share it with you.
I know why you are all here today, and I'd like to thank you all for coming. To me, it seems really odd that we're standing here, mourning and marking the grave of someone that was here just two or three months ago.
People have asked me why it had to be Gary that decided to join up and risk his life for our freedom, and all I can say is this: I don't know. When I asked my mom the same thing she said "You only have a limited amount of days, Vivianne, and when your time is up, it's up." I wonder if she really believes that. She never mentioned anything to do with the Big Guy Upstairs, or religion before this… maybe she thought it might help in some way. As much as she tried, it doesn't help at all, the pain is still there.
I'm not really sure what I can tell you. Everyone here knew our family at some point. Some of you may not, and I could ask you what the hell you're doing here, but I won't. It's not what Gary would want. He accepted all people, no matter what. In fact, having you here shows just how much Gary meant to you, and how much this town meant to him.
I guess I should tell you a little bit of why he might've made the decision he did. I moved from home to Boston for work a little over six months ago. Before I left he told me he'd look after our Mom. We'd fallen on really hard times since our Dad died, and I needed to get out and be independent. Gary hugged me and told me I was strong enough to go out and do it. He gave me the courage I didn't know I had. When I left he told me he'd get there eventually… he'd do the same thing when Mom could stand on her own two feet.
He joined up three months after I left and came down to Minnesota, where I ended up working with the prospects of the Olympic hockey team, to tell me he was shipping out to Lebanon. I don't know where that is, but that's where he was going. I ordered him out of my room, I didn't want to believe it was true, that if I pinched myself it would all be just a horrible nightmare that I could wake up from. When he tried to apologize all I said was "Fuck you, you wanker." Those were the last words I ever said to him. If I had known, I wouldn't have said it. Believe me, I wouldn't have said it. I would've told him I was proud of him, and lucky that he was my brother.
Gary was the one who taught me my first word. It didn't matter that the word was 'tit', Mom said, so long as I was talking. My daddy was a sealer, swears weren't a big deal, and neither was walking around naked. We were a bit kooky, sure, but that doesn't mean we didn't laugh, cry, work. Didn't have much time for playing, but when we did it was mostly because we only had each other.
If Gary could take a shot at you, make fun of you, he would. But he wouldn't think twice of extending a hand to pick you up when you really needed it. No matter what he was doing, he'd stop to help you. Speaking of help, I had a dream the other night, and it was about what must've happened, how he died. I saw him stop to take a drink, and two young children sitting on the sidewalk holding up their hands, asking for Ma'a. Water. They just wanted water. Gary took one sip and gave the rest to the kids. Then the car he was standing beside exploded, and then he died.
All I'm trying to say I guess is that I believe Gary died a hero. A son, brother, and a friend first, a soldier and hero first.
And there you have it. That's all I have left of my brother. Gary Dean Hallet, born November 26th, 1954, died 1979.
I'll miss him more than you could ever know, and truth be told, I don't know if I'll be going back to Minnesota, not after this.
Not till I know Gary is alright.
He'll let me know when he's ready.
When he's ready.