Honoring a truly beloved hero

When Anne Oliver’s soldier son-in-law passed away, the grief her family felt was allconsuming. But after they put up a bench in his memory, they began to see the true legacy his sacrifice had left behind—and began to heal

“His motto was ‘No excuses.

Play like a champion.’ We as a family have adopted it as

our own”

Our soldier son-in-law died young, having just turned twenty-eight. It’s been eleven years since that awful day. My head knows the facts, but my heart just can’t grasp them.

He has a bench in the cemetery at West Point. It’s an exact copy of the virtue benches along Trophy Point. His bench reads “Perseverance.” Whatever he tried in life—love, friends, sports, academics or duty— he persevered. His personal motto was “No excuses. Play like a champion.” We as a family have adopted it as our own. We persevere.

Grief can divide people from one another, but it can also unite them. After an Army career, my husband was a professor at the U.S. Naval War College in Newport, Rhode Island, for fifteen years. We put a bench with our soldier’s dates on a plaque there. Over the years, we have discovered what we call “what remains.”

At regular intervals, someone leaves two cans of our soldier’s favorite beer. One is empty, but one is open yet full—a salute to a ghostly companion. Who is this person? I don’t know, nor do I want to. What remains is that one specific person knows—and that is enough.

On our bench or on his gravestone (the bench), another person left a bouquet of f lowers—not just any flowers but my daughter’s favorite. One time, we found a river rock, painted with his name. We have found a wellthumbed copy of his favorite book. Left under his bench was an engraved stone. There has been a picture of a dog, similar to his much-loved pooch, Copper. Yellow ribbons frequently appear.

Two sparklers were there, one burned, one not.

An old man, whose acquaintance we never made, regularly paused at the bench near our house. He stood there in silence and then continued his walk. Had the gentleman wanted to meet us, he could have. What remains are his vigilance and respect.

At our soldier’s bench at West Point, we once found some crisp bacon and a pack of cupcakes—his favorite brand—one eaten, one not. This is what remains. Someone left a Chicago Cubs baseball hat—his team. Poems, letters, pictures of families, growing kids, small flags from various places, jack-o’lanterns and candy are left. Military challenge coins and coins of various denominations are left. Military folks can attest that these have a variety of meanings. What remains!

These offerings are special to us and the memory of our soldier.

Similar mementoes can be found in cemeteries and monuments everywhere—not just for our soldier but for the deceased from loved ones everywhere.

All these are unique to those who know the ones who have gone ahead. They are placed by those who are still here. Respect, memories and love are what remain.

We all persevere.