Last week I wrote about how mid-August had been an especially tough five days for three mothers, who had all lost their sons. It really caused me a lot of reflection as each life’s situation was different, yet they had all ended up with the son dying before the mother. Another lady, who lost her son earlier this year told me, “It’s not supposed to happen this way.”
So, I was relieved that I was able to relax the last two weeks and the time at the farm and on the motorcycle gave me a much-needed break. Almost exactly a year ago, I wrote an article entitled Coming Home. This last week has emphasized to me just how pleasant it was to return home and enjoy ‘the good life’ without having to catch planes, fight the Washington, DC or Saint Louis traffic, or keep putting one foot in front of another while I marched twenty-plus miles with up to a hundred pounds on my back.
There is a group of El Dorado Springs R-2 High School graduates, most of whom graduated between 1972 and 1977. Many of whom I had played football with, and who have been meeting for breakfast for a while now. A few days ago, we had more than a dozen of us seated around several tables and we probably had three or four conversations going on at the same time. I sat there and tried to listen to at least parts of every discussion. My loss of hearing during my military service did not help me any at all, nor did my 46+ years away as I would have to occasionally ask quietly who an individual was, kind of recognizing the face, but not remembering the name.
As I sat there soaking in the friendship, camaraderie, and atmosphere, it dawned on me how much I had missed out on during my service in the military and Department of Defense, now Department of War. Sure, we had groups of coworkers that got together occasionally and some became friends, but it seemed like all of our relationships were built around work. Some of us try to stay in contact, but as the years and distance grow and separate lives go on without so many common experiences, those bonds grow weaker with each passing year.
Then today I sat for a long while with my wife and two girls I had gone to school with. I always remember them because in Junior High, I got a part-time job punching lunch tickets for the younger grades and these two were two of the prettiest sisters to come through the line. I told them how I had always admired their beauty but was both afraid to ask them out and could not make up my mind which one I wanted to ask out, so I lost out on both, having never asked either.
I do not think women and girls understand how afraid men and boys are of being turned down. My wife said the same thing happened to her; that years after graduation, boys would tell her how they always wanted to ask her out but were intimidated and afraid so they never took the leap and asked her.
It was such a wonderful time sitting there in the shade, sharing our experiences from our school days, and talking about pretty much nothing, but just enjoying the breeze, the shade, and each other’s company. It impacted me so much, I thought about it over and over all day. It was such a contrast to the last fifty-plus years of my life. Such a wonderful contrast and eye-opening experience.
Greg Allison told me one time he did not know how I did it. Live and work in a world where I rarely saw my predecessors nor my family as I deployed all over the world. He had always had his parents, grandparents, and children somewhat nearby where he could see them regularly. He did not understand how I could live like that, and the last few days have made it much clearer to me what I have been missing for those last fifty years.
Again, some folks are possibly wondering why I keep writing about life events when I am the Coroner and have promised to write about the death process and all of the important events that accompany and surround death that are mostly unknown and that give us such anxiety wondering what we will do, who we will call, or in our own cases, when it will come.
Simple, the more I am exposed to death and its ugliness, the more I am reminded of the importance and beauty of life. Today, someone told me for the umpteenth time that they do not understand how I can do this job. And for the umpteenth time I answered that it is helping people in the worst time of their lives that gives me the strength to keep going. I believe God gives me the strength to do what most cannot do and certainly what almost nobody else has the desire to do.
Telling each of those mothers about their sons in August and the mother earlier in the year was tough, but not as tough as them hearing when I informed them their sons had died. I could feel the pressure all around me as I began to tell them what I had discovered, but at the same time, I was silently asking and could feel the Spirit providing guidance to me, so I didn’t make the times worse.
And this is why I write about life. Because the whole meaning of life is to enjoy life, not worry about dying. You will not be able to change that, but you can change how you live and live so happily and contented you are not afraid.
I am so glad I came home … again.
Danny Leo Green,
Coroner, Cedar County
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