I have imagined that reunion, on and off, since I was thirty. I imagined running. I imagined screaming. I imagined the flag.

What I actually did was stand in a boat shed and say, “You let me bury you.”

“Yes.”

“Closed casket. Arlington. There were eleven hundred people. The Chief of Naval Operations gave a eulogy about your *integrity.*”

“I know. I watched it.”

“You were *there?*”