64 years ago today, Nana and Poppy were married. It was fitting then and with a romantic twist lost on no one that Poppy was put into the grave next to his lifelong love.
The whole day was a really a celebration of both of their lives. Clearly the deja vu feeling was thick, but I think there was a common belief that, as Poppy would say, "Gam Zu L'Tova."-This, too, is for the best.
It is better that the two of them died in such close proximity. And the speakers, all of them, did such tremendous justice to their legacy, because though they were each individuals, they were very much a pair. (BTW, I stand corrected on my previous post regarding the speakers.)
Our hero left us today, but as my aunt Susan's friend, Carole, said, "he didn't want to celebrate his anniversary without his girl."
And a hero, he was.
Many of the speakers touched on his service in the WWII Flying Tigers, so it was a touch of patriotic irony that as his coffin touched bottom, we looked up and saw Air Force One taking off from Andrews Air Force Base, as if the Commander in Chief himself were paying his respect to one of the mightiest of the "Greatest Generation."
At the cemetery, we attempted to replicate the efforts of Nana's burial and complete the process of filling in the dirt, but the heavy rains of the past few days made that near impossible, so we relegated the completion of the task to the backhoe.
In typical Epstein fashion-be prepared for any eventuality-my brother, my father and I (each independent of the other) had brought workboots to help with the digging (having learned from Nana's funeral and calculated on the rain's impact.)
What we did not anticipate was the splattering that the mud would make as it hit the top of the casket, sending "collateral damage" pieces of mud and dirt onto me and some others nearby.
As I remarked to my cousin Lee, "I think Poppy would be proud. This is truly an 'All-Madden' funeral. I left it all on the field."
As I drove home after the funeral, cemetery, and visit to the shiva house, I looked at my phone. A reminder popped up on my screen (as it does every Friday thanks to recurring reminders).
"Call Nana and Poppy to wish them a Good Shabbos"
I choked up momentarily and thought about the passing of this generation, but in the next instant, I thought of my little niece, Dalia, who for a short time has to wear a corrective helmet. On it, her mother, Julie, had inscribed Poppy's mantra, one he repeated every day since he returned from the war.
"Every Day Is A Bonus Day."
And so was this one.
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