Victory Day
It has been a long time since I last posted. I have lived out of a suitcase for 2 months. In late July my dad died. I probably will be reflecting on that for a while, so forgive me if the themes surrounding death get old. But some day, perhaps sooner than we expect, they will be very relevant.....
Sand sprayed everywhere as he caught the football and landed with a thud on the beach. His shipmates laughed as the young officer spit the sand out of his mouth and sat laughing with them. They were having a great time and most of the submarine Irex crew was in the game, officers and enlisted men alike. As Lt. Doug Gunn dusted of the sand, someone yelled it was time to go. He looked out over the Pacific and the smile faded. Tomorrow the Irex was to sail to war. It was August 14, 1945. The invasion of Japan was imminent and they were assigned to patrol the Sea of Japan. This was known as a submarine graveyard, for it was a shallow sea and that made them easy targets for Japanese destroyers. Setting his jaw he knew they were ready. They had spent months preparing for this day.Training in Panama for the last several weeks, the crew's last liberty was tonite. He thought of his mother. She would be proud, he thought, because he wouldn't be getting drunk like most of the others. Would he ever see her again? He shrugged it off and headed for the jeep. Fear was never really a problem for him-he was there to do his duty and that's what he would do.
Later that night as they drove into town they heard all kinds of celebrating. Everyone was going nuts as people poured into the streets shouting and laughing. Pulling over, they finally got someone to tell them the incredible news-Japan had surrendered! The war was over! My father laughed and yelled and joined in the celebration. He would not face death after all.....not yet anyway.
That was 60 years ago yesterday. It was a story I never got tired of hearing. I often asked my dad if he ever feared death or combat and the answer was the same a few weeks ago as it was then. Fear was simply not a problem for him. He was always the optimist, always full of faith. When he truly became born again in 1981 this only increased. It never wavered when he got the news last April that he had cancer. The doctor gave him 2 months. The now 81 year old Lt. Doug Gunn smiled and said "Doc, one year from now I will be in this office dancing a jig!" The oncologist grinned. "I hope so Mr Gunn.I hope so."
My dad won't do that after all. Instead, I know he is dancing in heaven, probably to the big band music he and most of his generation loved (was Glenn Miller a Christian?). But up until he died two weeks ago, he never lost his positive attitude. He never showed any regret or fear of dying. He knew and we had told him over and over again what a good, loving father he was, faults and all. He had loved and taken care of his wife for 54 years-not without conflict or failure (there was plenty), but with unflagging duty and sacrifice. And that is why on his headstone will be the words I know he heard early the morning of July 27th, 2005: "Well done, good and faithful servant....."
Sand sprayed everywhere as he caught the football and landed with a thud on the beach. His shipmates laughed as the young officer spit the sand out of his mouth and sat laughing with them. They were having a great time and most of the submarine Irex crew was in the game, officers and enlisted men alike. As Lt. Doug Gunn dusted of the sand, someone yelled it was time to go. He looked out over the Pacific and the smile faded. Tomorrow the Irex was to sail to war. It was August 14, 1945. The invasion of Japan was imminent and they were assigned to patrol the Sea of Japan. This was known as a submarine graveyard, for it was a shallow sea and that made them easy targets for Japanese destroyers. Setting his jaw he knew they were ready. They had spent months preparing for this day.Training in Panama for the last several weeks, the crew's last liberty was tonite. He thought of his mother. She would be proud, he thought, because he wouldn't be getting drunk like most of the others. Would he ever see her again? He shrugged it off and headed for the jeep. Fear was never really a problem for him-he was there to do his duty and that's what he would do.
Later that night as they drove into town they heard all kinds of celebrating. Everyone was going nuts as people poured into the streets shouting and laughing. Pulling over, they finally got someone to tell them the incredible news-Japan had surrendered! The war was over! My father laughed and yelled and joined in the celebration. He would not face death after all.....not yet anyway.
That was 60 years ago yesterday. It was a story I never got tired of hearing. I often asked my dad if he ever feared death or combat and the answer was the same a few weeks ago as it was then. Fear was simply not a problem for him. He was always the optimist, always full of faith. When he truly became born again in 1981 this only increased. It never wavered when he got the news last April that he had cancer. The doctor gave him 2 months. The now 81 year old Lt. Doug Gunn smiled and said "Doc, one year from now I will be in this office dancing a jig!" The oncologist grinned. "I hope so Mr Gunn.I hope so."
My dad won't do that after all. Instead, I know he is dancing in heaven, probably to the big band music he and most of his generation loved (was Glenn Miller a Christian?). But up until he died two weeks ago, he never lost his positive attitude. He never showed any regret or fear of dying. He knew and we had told him over and over again what a good, loving father he was, faults and all. He had loved and taken care of his wife for 54 years-not without conflict or failure (there was plenty), but with unflagging duty and sacrifice. And that is why on his headstone will be the words I know he heard early the morning of July 27th, 2005: "Well done, good and faithful servant....."
posted by Rob | 9:37 AM
2 Comments:
May the hope of the resurrection sustain you as you mourn your dad. My prayers are with you. -Travis
Hey Rob, I truly am very sorry for your loss. Reading your blog today really hit home to me, as today is the 3-year anniversary of my mom's death. Wow, how time passes.
I wish I could offer even a small fraction of the encouragement you gave to me after my mom died. All I know is that God comforted me in ways that I never imagined possible, and I know he'll do the same for you and your family. Hopefully we'll be able to talk to you soon.
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