Tribute to a Co-Worker and Friend - Waiting on Website to Publish my Tribute

    In case it did not capture, perhaps it was too long, or was not accepted, I wanted to write about this man. I believe that I owe him this. Him, Gregory, his family, who I think deserves credit for the quality of person he was. I owe it to myself, as it hurts to lose such a fine person, we owe it to my Guard community, his friends and other colleagues, to my nation, to my race. The human race. Perhaps my original tribute entry was considered too preachy. I don't think so, but we shall see if it gets published on: Gregory Bruington Obituary - C. C. Carter Funeral Home, Inc. - Newport News - 2024 (legacy.com)

    I owe it to God, and His Son Jesus. I owe it to all I know and believe, and have faith in.

    Call me preachy. Sure.

    Background: I learned that he died Sunday morning in a car wreck or accident, and our mutual friend survived and she is in critical condition. Prayers and love to her and hers.

    I got to know Bruington in 2018, I think, probably the springtime. It was our drill to shoot on the range, especially the M-240, a crew-serve weapon. At Fort AP Hill, now known as Mary Walker.  We were partners on this weapon that uses two soldiers to maintain. I think it was likely we rode down in the same truck together, convoying with the rest of our company. He may have driven, but that first time it could have been me. I think we ended up both being drivers a lot for our unit. Dependable, safe. I think that is safe to say about he and me as drivers. 

    We were on one part of the range, and no one came to pick us up. We were told to walk the mile or more to the next range. We did. The spring day got warm, it was sunny; we de-bloused as we walked. We were hoofing it and not complaining too bad. I told him I had done this shooting exercise plenty of times before, and normally that is not part of the routine. Left to hike and hep the gear.  But he made no complaints. This was our job, we were paid to move and shoot, and we did.

    That is a decent, peaceful memory. The weapon, that we shared the burden of, the big dog, and me. On a warm spring Saturday. Or possibly Friday.

        I got to be Bruington's squad leader, as I was being groomed to promote and be a leader. I enjoyed the comradery; I am not sure how much Bru liked me as his leader, but he was good to me. Pleasant, solid, cool. I am an older soldier, either a relic or an odd outlier. I try my best, probably come up short a bit. But Bruington was cool and supportive to me. For years. I didn't stay his squad leader that long, we got separated. But we would we see each other and give warm greetings.

    He would come into our drill weekends early and stay overnight in favorite parts of the armory. He would sleep on a cot with no complaints. I learned some of the music that he enjoyed. New and different to me. Over the years he did his thing, always collected and smiling, little complaining as some of us like to do. And some quit. Not him. Not a quitter, this guy.

    He had a million-dollar smile, he was a kind person, he was gracious and sweet. I consider him a brother and friend for this life and the life to come.

    I expect to see him afresh and give him a good hug. I think we will rejoice in the Lord Jesus Christ.

    It occurs to me now that he could be Muslim, and if so, perhaps the family or website does not want to propagate my Christian message and utterances of faith and devotion to Jesus in his final eulogies.

    So be it. If he is Muslim, I accept and love him the same. I have other close friends in the Muslim community; I consider them my brothers and sisters, along with all of God's children.

    Us Christians, Muslims, Jewish, pagans, and quite a few atheists will all end up doing things together in the Hereafter, I believe.

    I could be wrong. But one thing that I cannot be wrong about is that I love this guy, and he will be missed by me and many others. 

    I will see this brother again, and there will be smiles and laughs, perhaps a bit more work and hoofing, with a pleasant disposition, and music and joy.

    See you in the next life, Mr. Bruington. You left me and us better than when you found us.