“When I die I should go to heaven because I’ve spent my time in hell.”
Bruce Foster was a Vietnam veteran. His funeral was Saturday, just two days before today, Veterans Day, which I found quite significant. Bruce is the father of my college roommate, Morgan, from my freshman year at UND in 2002. Morgan and I remain dear friends all these years later.
I learned a lot about Morgan and her family, as one does when you live in one small room and share a closet and fridge. I knew that her father was a Marine who served two tours in Vietnam and that the experience had profoundly and detrimentally affected Bruce for a lifetime. And in turn, the lives of his family.
Morgan told me that he was a “front-line gunner.” I didn’t come from a military family, nor was I in the service, but even at eighteen years old, it was quite clear to me what Bruce was called upon to do.
As I look back now, I was probably only around Bruce a handful of times over the past twenty years. For most of that year in the dorm, my only personal knowledge of Bruce came from his late-night phone calls to Morgan when he needed her help to buy Elvis memorabilia off eBay. He had Jackie’s-Elton-level-love for Elvis!
I always viewed him with admiration. He looked a bit like my grandpa, so that endeared me to him right away. When Morgan received her doctorate in public health not too long before I got sick, I attended her graduation party. Bruce, a former professional photographer, looking quite dapper in his suit, photographed the occasion and I sensed his pride. Being near him was always a stark reminder of his service.
Bruce doctored extensively at the VA and as he aged, the trips and maladies grew. Among other terrible things, Bruce suffered the effects of Agent Orange. Just like I understood what Morgan’s words front-line gunner meant, I also knew that Agent Orange did unspeakable and horrible things.
Bruce was a farmer, a photographer, admired in his community and family, and active in the American Legion. He was a patriot. He was married to Cheryl for fifty-seven years and raised three wonderful children. But through all the blessings of his life, he carried a heavy burden.
At his service, Pastor Susan paid a beautiful and moving tribute to him. She lead with Bruce quietly sitting in the back of church and always wearing his jacket. She brought those words to life and painted the picture of a young man, serving in hell in a war a world away on behalf of his country. Yet a man led by faith, sacrifice, and offering. Someone destined for heaven.
As I sat in the pew, I felt a tightness in my entire body. My sympathy for Bruce’s family, my admiration for the life he lived, my thanks to Veterans everywhere who have served our great country and returned to the US soil broken and damaged, made me rigid. I couldn’t grasp how indebted we all are to over two hundred years’ legions of men and women.
As two Marines marched to the front of the church and began to fold the stars and stripes draped over Bruce’s body, set to be laid to eternal rest, my right hand instinctively covered my heart. Ahead of me, two older men stood at attention with their hands saluting Bruce, the Marines, and the United States flag. Behind me, a gun salute and taps playing. The moment felt surreal as tears welled in my eyes.
And when the Marine handed Cheryl that flag, on behalf of the President of the United States, the Marine Corps, and a thankful country, I thought I may burst.
Only four days prior, our nation voted for the next President. And while I’m devastated with the outcome and fear what it means, I know the United States will survive. I’m an Obama Democrat. I’ll never stop believing in the promise of America. Because of Bruce and others, I have the great privilege to hope.
I’ll never understand war. I’ll never know the horrors Bruce saw. I’ll never be able to thank him and other service members enough. But today, I write this to honor Bruce and all veterans.
For all gave some, and some gave all.
Semper Fi, Bruce. In my heart, I know that you have already arrived in heaven.
And to all Veterans today and always, my deepest gratitude to you for your service to our great nation.
God bless.
jackie
And when I think that God, His Son not sparing
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in
That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing
He bled and died to take away my sin
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee
How great Thou art, how great Thou art
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee
How great Thou art, how great Thou art ~ How Great Thou Art (as sung by Elvis at Bruce’s funeral)
To donate in honor of Bruce and other veterans, here are a few links special to Sean and me:
__________
/ / The JM Stebbins blog is an autoimmune encephalitis blog from former lawyer and autoimmune encephalitis survivor, Jackie M. Stebbins.
Jackie M. Stebbins is also the author of Unwillable: A Journey to Reclaim my Brain, a book about autoimmune encephalitis, resilience, hope, and survival. / /