To Live Too Long

My father, proudest in his life for serving his country in World War Two, lived his last three years in a nursing home, confined to bed, urinating and having bowel movements in a diaper. When he could focus and talk to me, I asked if he still wanted to be buried in the National Cemetary at Punchbowl, his lifetime dream. “Of course.” I said he’d have to be cremated then; there was no more room. He shook his head, said he would never want that, would settle for burial at the Kane’ohe Cemetary for veterans. His lifetime wish went unfulfilled.

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