This is the last of three posts in which I try to deal with my brother’s death. They are Danny, Acceptance and Goodbye.

Perhaps to make up for the previous day’s lateness, we all got to the church 45 minutes early. Family and friends were ushered into the main room while the pallbearers were pulled aside for instructions. My father, brother, uncle, two cousins and I had a tough time listening to the proper way to wheel the coffin out at the end of the ceremony.

Pastor Wayne, from my mom’s church, officiated the ceremony. I was getting nervous; days before Ma asked me to give the eulogy. I really didn’t want to do that, and I tried to get out of it by reminding her of the “best man rotation” we had going. Danny was mine, I was Carlos’, so it seemed to make sense that since Carlos has been robbed of the opportunity of being Danny’s best man, he should give the eulogy. She agreed, but then added, “but you are his brother, so you are going to speak too!”

I knew what was going to happen, which is why I didn’t want to get up there and speak. After Carlos gave his touching eulogy, made up of stories from our childhood and with a touch of anger at Danny’s passing, I was called up. I don’t think I even got three sentences out. I only recall squeezing out “I wish as I was as strong as Carlos,” “I’m sorry” and “I can’t do this” between moments of tear-filled silence.

The slideshow from the night before played (I still couldn’t watch it), and then Pastor Wayne finished the ceremony. I couldn’t bring myself to say the prayer along with him, as it sounded to me like, “We’ve got Danny’s soul. You wanna see him again? Join our church.”

The six of us wheeled him out into the area in front of the church. The Patriot Guard stood outside, as they had the night before.

Given the nature of Danny’s death, I was worried that the Army would abandon him. I can’t tell you how happy I am that they did no such thing.

We all watched the Honor Guard line up and ready their rifles. My mom and I jumped as the 21-Gun Salute went off (I’ve seen it done in movies, but was not prepared for how loud it was). My brother, although in a civilian suit, proudly saluted the coffin the entire time. I saw a perfect stranger cry for us. I even saw a wheelchair-bound member of the Patriot Guard prop himself up with the flag to stand at attention.

The scene was moving, but I kept it all together; that is, until SGT Simmons of the Honor Guard played Taps. I couldn’t stop myself from weeping.

Members of the Honor Guard slowly and precisely folded the flag that draped Danny’s coffin. When done, they handed it to Nadia. In her Class As, she handed it to Nilsa on behalf of the Army. She repeated this for both of my parents (who were very happy that she was the one to present to them).

It was very hot and humid as this was going on, as it typically is in Florida. As soon as the ceremony ended, the clouds above tore open and a heavy downpour started.

This has been a trying time for my family. It is going to take a long time before we fully come to terms with this, but the healing process has already begun. Danny’s death brought the extended Diaz family together for the first time in over a decade.

Thank you for letting me take a break from the normal trivialities I talk about here so that I can get this out, and thank you for reading and for your kind words. This blog’s normal foolishness will resume, starting with the next post.

I love you Danny, you will be missed.