On Monday, September 17, 2007 my father David Hackett was laid to rest after losing his battle with cancer. He was buried in Saint Patrick’s Cemetery in Fall River, MA on what turned out to be a beautiful summer day. On a morning filled with such darkness and grief, the sun was shining down as his coffin lay before us draped with an American flag and two United States Air Force officers standing at attention by his side. My father served in Vietnam as a military policeman during the war and I know he would have been proud and honored by the military funeral that was given in his honor.
These final moments I had with my dad were a culmination of a very difficult week. On Sunday night, we saw a constant stream of people who came to pay their respects to their friend, their coworker, their relative…my dad. I was honored to hear all of the stories and compliments that people had to say about my dad. It was great to see how loved he was by the community in which he lived.
Before walking into the funeral home to pay my respects that Sunday night, my last impression of my dad was the seconds before and minutes after his death, a sight that will be forever burned into my memory. This disease that took his life created a man that, in the end, didn’t look my father. As my girlfriend Lori and I walking into the funeral home that night, I wasn’t sure what I should expect to see but it couldn’t have been as bad as what I had seen just a couple nights before.
A billboard was set up with a bunch of pictures of my father when he was still healthy. It was a welcome relief to see him as I had always wanted to see him…a tall man with a full, thick goatee, a pocket protector that housed his reading glasses, and of course always wearing some kind of hat. When I turned the corner and saw my dad lying in the coffin, I again realized how much cancer had devastated the person that was in the pictures I was just enjoying.
When the people came and went that Sunday night, I felt like the worst was over. Little did I know just how overwhelming the sound of a bagpipe and a bugle would be the following day. As I said goodbye to my dad for the last time before being lowered into his final resting place, I told him again that I loved him and that he was now at peace. He would suffer no more.
As the American flag was neatly folded and handed to my stepmother Janice, my father’s life was celebrated one last time by the uttering of this phrase…
“On behalf of the President of the United States, the Department of the Air Force, and a grateful nation, we offer this flag for the faithful and dedicated service of David Hackett.”
Rest in Peace Dad