military life – Cindy Hval

It’s a daunting task to sum up a life in a few paragraphs.

Yet every week, the newspaper obituary section is filled with stories told by loved ones left behind.

From birth overseas to military families to a couple of ladies who wanted to have the last word, here are a few snapshots of community members who’ve passed away.

On Dec. 12, 1945, the New York Times reported Graham DeLong’s arrival in the U.S. Eight-month-old Graham and his mother, Joyce, a World War II bride, arrived on one of the first ships sent by Congress to ferry military dependents to the States during the war.

They settled in Montana, where his father joined them after his service.

Graham served in the military during the Vietnam War. He enjoyed a long career at Kaiser Aluminum Trentwood and opened Graham’s Graphics post-retirement.

He died Nov. 22, and was preceded in death by his beloved wife, Linda.

The family wrote, “Mom and Dad, we imagine you dancing to music, sipping coffee, and enjoying pastries together once more. Thank you for your example of hard work, selfless love, perseverance, and wholehearted devotion to family. We will carry your legacy forward.”

Paul Cooley was born in Naples, Italy, to American Army Air Corps Staff Sergeant Ralph B. Cooley and Filippina Russo Cooley, an Italian native.

He moved to Spokane as a baby and was soon joined by his sister JoAnn, twin sisters Barbara and Beverly, and finally a brother, Robert, all within five years. Paul’s large extended family led to many holiday gatherings and parties filled with pasta, music and games.

Paul loved teaching and coaching, and his career in education spanned 30 years.

Patrick Michael Molvik, 58, died unexpectedly in October.

His obituary said, “He leaves behind a world he made brighter, smarter, and kinder – and a legacy that hums in every wire he repaired, every student he inspired, and every life he gently guided.”

“Patrick was a modern-day renaissance man, a true polymath whose curiosity knew no limits. He was passionate about more things than time or space could ever hold, and could never resist discovering how things worked. Radios, engines, and computers often found themselves spread across his workbench, awaiting the patient precision of his hands. He brought broken things back to life – not just machines but sometimes spirits too.”

Brian Miller’s obituary described him as quiet and studious, avoiding the spotlight. However, his contributions significantly impacted a device most of us use daily – the cellphone.

An electrical engineer who graduated from the University of Colorado at Boulder with a 4.0 GPA, he held multiple patents from his time at Hewlett-Packard in Liberty Lake and its spin-off companies. His work helped revolutionize cellular technology.

“If you have a cell phone, in some way you know Brian,” read his obituary.

He also spent decades volunteering for the Spokane Audubon Society.

“If you’ve enjoyed the sound of the birds at a Spokane area wildlife refuge, you know Brian.”

His memorial concluded, “You may not think you knew Brian. But you did – you do. You know him in the technology you use, the nature you enjoy, and the relationships you cherish. You know him in the way the room feels when it’s full of laughter, and the way a warm spring breeze feels on your face.”

Penny Ann Sanders managed her own life all the way to the end when she penned her obit.

“All of my life I have tried to be in charge,” she wrote. “When I felt I was not, I always knew why. My Lord was in charge, and by His word, I knew I had to obey or else. His final word to me was, ‘It is time to come home.’ I lifted my arms in the air and said ‘yes,’ and off I went, not to look back or question.

“Still being in charge before I go, I have asked that there be no service. I have always hated services, it is just a time to cry, sing songs that the family had to pick out, and hope that they picked the right ones, and order flowers hoping that the person that just passed likes them.”

She further directed, “I know people hate that when there is no service, and they feel that they didn’t get to say goodbye, but just look up and wave to the sky and shout ‘GOODBYE PENNY!’ ”

Sometimes having the last word is a gift to those you’ve left behind.

Laura Jean Sweet died in November and asked the following to be included in her obituary:

“Now that I’m gone, remember me with smiles and laughter, and if you need to cry, cry with your brother or sister who walks in grief beside you. …

“Look for me in the people I’ve known or helped in some special way. Let me live in your heart and in your mind. …

“Love does not die, people do. So that when what is left of me is love, give me away as best you can.”

The echoing roar stopped us in our tracks.

Like everyone else in the parking lot of Fairchild Air Force Base Commissary, we craned our necks and watched the Thunderbirds practicing for SkyFest. It was the Friday before the air show and we were thrilled to get a sneak peek at the six F-16C Fighting Falcons soaring through the blue skies and darting in and out of fluffy white clouds.

I’ve spent a lot of time at Fairchild, beginning at birth. My dad served 24 years in the Air Force. My oldest brother and I were born at the base hospital. My second brother was born at a base in Montana and my sister in the Philippines.

After several moves, we returned to Washington when I was 5, and we always did our grocery shopping at Fairchild. Even after Dad retired and we lived in Ritzville and then Moses Lake, we drove to the base to stock our pantry.

I remember the old commissary that seemed more like a dimly-lit warehouse than a grocery store. Mom bought “GI bread” in its plain wrapper and Circus Peanut Butter that came in tall plastic jars.

I lived in terror that my friends would discover my sandwiches weren’t made from Jif and Wonder Bread. Still, that would’ve been better than them seeing the bologna in our refrigerator that came in a huge hunk. My dad hacked off crooked slices and when I’d decline a sandwich, he’d fry it up in a pan for breakfast.

Oh, to have a thinly sliced Oscar Meyer, Bologna, with pre-sliced American cheese sandwich in my Barbie lunchbox!

We didn’t just grocery shop at Fairchild. There were doctor visits, dental checkups and trailer rentals.

Yep, Fairchild has an Outdoor Recreation Center where active duty and retired military personnel can rent tents, trailers and everything you need for a family camping trip.

That is everything except a dad who can put up a tent and back a trailer into a campsite. Dad was not an outdoorsy kind of guy, so while mom “helped” (mainly by laughing hysterically) my siblings and I usually just pretended we were with another family.

Of course, I married a military man. Derek served 23 years in the Washington National Guard which turned out to be providential. Without our monthly trips to the commissary, our budget would have buckled under the strain of feeding four growing boys.

Nowadays, with just one kid at home, our trips to Fairchild are far less frequent, but our recent visit complete with thundering jets overhead was something special. We finished our shopping at 5 p.m. If you’re familiar with military life you know what that means.

As we were loading our groceries into the car “Retreat” began to play through loudspeakers across the base. The tune signals the end of the official duty day and is followed by the “Star-Spangled Banner” and the lowering of the flag.

The piping bugle call echoed and everyone, whether in uniform or not, stopped what they were doing and faced the nearest flag. All vehicles stopped. Those in uniform stood at parade rest, and the rest of us put our hands over our hearts.

It’s a beautiful thing to see a bustling military base come to a standstill. To watch older retired folks, young civilian grocery baggers, and men and women in uniform, united for a few moments of respect and reflection.

May is military appreciation month and we’re heading into Memorial Day weekend. Today, I’ve got “Retreat” set to play on my phone. At 5 p.m. I plan to stand and let my workday worries go. I’ll be thinking about the men and women in uniform across the world who are doing the same thing.

And I don’t have to be on a military base to feel profoundly thankful for their service.