Nobody can be sure when a single moment is going to change their life forever. Nobody can know how witnessing the pain of someone they love can hurt them as much as if they had been the one who was hurt. And nobody can know how lucky they were to have had something or someone that makes saying goodbye so hard until they have had to actually say goodbye.
This past weekend I accompanied a good friend to the Kentucky Vietnam Veterans Cemetery where a year ago, Sgt. Donnie S. McWain was eternally laid to rest after being killed in a single motorcycle accident.
Justin and Donnie were best friends. They shared a sacred brotherhood in the Sigma Chi Fraternity. They made memories over beer, police chases, and relationships. They were each other’s best and mischievous other halves.
Due to his deployment overseas in Iraq the previous year, Justin was unable to say goodbye to his friend after his untimely death. Haunted by having been robbed of the opportunity to bid a proper farewell his visit was as necessary as breathing. I couldn’t let him do it alone. I learned, only afterward, that man’s feelings are never purer than when saying goodbye not only brings tears to the eyes but also to the soul.
After arriving and finding Donnie’s headstone, I lay a rose atop the stone marking, kissed Justin upon the cheek and told him to take all the time he needed. From the car I watched helplessly as he knelt in front of a grave of one I was unfortunately never able to get to know. I heard his sobs when the words “Goodbye my friend” struck him intensely; and I prayed and wept silently for the soul resting in Heaven and for the broken heart of my loved one still here alive and well. Justin cracked open a beer—one last drink between brothers. I forced myself to look away; this meeting deserved as much privacy as I was able to provide. I waited patiently until his sobs were exhausted and his weary, spent self, red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, resigned an opening for my arms. The only thing I wanted was to enfold him with enough love to take his pain away.
On a grassy knoll, overlooking the beautiful Bluegrass Kentucky Mountains lays the grave of a best friend—a marking of which only tells name, birth and death. In the town of Clarksville, Tennessee, carrying on the memories that tell the true story of a life well lived is his best friend and partner in crime, Justin Winn. Death separates us physically for only a short time. From Heaven above, Donnie watches over Justin until they meet again to spend an eternity together in brotherhood.