The Final Surrender

Remember John Burtis' dad in your prayers. Here is a son's tribute:

I remember the final scene in the movie Titanic, where the lone survivor is welcomed aboard the ghostly ship, now come alive with lights and people in the grand promenade.

And I picture the same return for my father when his time finally comes — his climbing to the bridge of his LST, the smoke and fire of Normandy, the planes overhead, the smell of battle joined for the liberation of Europe, and his long lost shipmates — those he has spoken of for so many years and whose pictures I now possess.

I can also see the old man in the jump seat of that perfect red ’53 American LaFrance Custom in Port Dickinson, NY, gold leaf letters painted on its doors, racing to a fire, with his childhood pals aboard, in his striped coat and leather helmet, serving his community as he knew best for 42 years.

It’s interesting to see how the generational torch is passed — first with the auto, then in care, in silence, then with the phone calls to a doctor I’ve never met, to administrators in his assisted living home, to the nurses on his floor, in conversations with his CPA, and with my kid brother, who lives in Fort Worth, not too far away. And soon to his attorney.

And now I’m waiting for another call from my brother, all grown up, now, with a son in ROTC, with the results of a cat scan and the reasons why my old man can no longer speak, and I realize that another member of the great generation is preparing for the calling of retreat and that final playing of taps.

God speed to them both!