In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
From “in Flanders Field” by John McCrea
Today was the day. We drove dad’s cremains to the place where he wanted to spend eternity. The logistics of getting all of us to France at the same time made it difficult and explain how almost eleven months after he passed away, dad finally came home. Julie, Warren, David, Trish, and I came together and came across the Atlantic to bring dad home. Julie had contacted as many of dad’s friends who she had remained in contact since he had retired 1998. Almost immediately a very close friend of dad and Julie’s who lived in Paris, Ritva, said she wanted to join us. There was no discussion; it was a great idea. Ritva would join us. As the trip came closer to happening, Ritva offered to arrange transportation to the area. Two other friends of dad’s also wanted to come; it was wonderful that old friends wanted to be part of dad’s final trip. Continue reading Day 19: Father’s Day comes early