After a long, punishing journey from the Middle East, Lieutenant Rob Sarver was welcomed with open arms by Brendan’s family and friends. Sarver’s girlfriend, who had flown in from California to help Amy, was also waiting to hug the tired, grieving Navy SEAL. Heather knew how much her boyfriend was hurting, and like Sarver, she was completely devastated for Amy. Just a few weeks earlier during their fun trip to Las Vegas, Heather had marveled at Amy’s unselfish nature, as well as the hope she expressed for her future with Brendan. Suddenly across the country on this terrible, surreal day, Heather was watching Amy prepare to bury him.
After Sarver found Amy near the backyard pool and embraced her, the dazed young widow asked him to help the family handle funeral arrangements. Though exhausted after twenty-one hours of travel, the SEAL accepted without hesitation. If the situation were reversed, Sarver knew Brendan would have done the same for his family.
As they walked inside the house, Amy began telling Sarver where she wanted her husband laid to rest.
“I want Brendan buried next to Travis at Arlington,” Amy said.
Before she left San Diego, Amy had conveyed the same wish during a phone call with Maureen, who then relayed it to Janet. After hearing Amy’s comment to Sarver and shooting each other looks, Brendan’s and Travis’s parents walked across the room.
“Amy, honey, Travis isn’t buried at Arlington,” Maureen reminded her daughter-in-law.
“He’s buried where we live, remember, sweetheart?” Janet said.
Of course Amy remembered. She had been at Travis’s funeral and called Brendan in tears while driving to the Pennsylvania cemetery. But as bewilderment and panic dominated her normally structured state of mind, Amy was uncharacteristically defiant.
“I don’t care . . . then bury him in Pennsylvania,” Amy said. “Brendan would want to be with Travis.”
Others attempted to convince the grieving widow that it would be far more sensible to bury Brendan closer to home. In response, Amy simply shook her head and said “no.”
That’s when Tom tapped Janet on the shoulder and whispered something in her ear. Janet then told Amy she would be right back and urged her to spend the next few minutes having something to eat.
“I’m not hungry,” said Amy, holding a glass of wine.
“Amy, you have to eat some food and drink some water,” Janet said, echoing the frequent pleas of Maureen and Christina.
As Amy nodded and sat down on the couch, Tom and Janet retreated to a nearby room so they could speak in private.
Unbeknownst to Amy or the Looney family, the Manions had long considered moving Travis from Calvary Cemetery in West Conshohocken, Pennsylvania—where his grave was still marked with a simple wooden cross—to Arlington National Cemetery.
“I’m okay with moving him, and I know Ryan is, too,” Tom said before asking his wife what she wanted to do.
In the foggy days following Travis’s death, Ryan had told her parents about Travis’s desire to be laid to rest at Arlington. Weeks after her brother was buried close to home, where his mom could visit him at least once a week, Major Steve Cantrell, Travis’s friend and mentor, had told Tom that he’d had a similar conversation with Travis. From that moment forward, Tom believed his son should eventually be reinterred at Arlington, but only if Janet was comfortable with the decision.
After struggling for some time over Travis’s final place of rest, Janet had to decide whether her only son’s grave would be dug up and moved about 150 miles south. Before answering, she closed her eyes and said her oft-repeated prayer.
“Lord, help me to remember that nothing is going to happen today that you and I together can’t handle,” she whispered.
Whether God answered was impossible to know. But in that heartrending moment, Travis’s mom felt clarity and peace.
“Amy is right,” Janet said. “This is the way it should be.”
Janet paused and rubbed her eyes with a tissue.
“We can bring Brendan and Travis back together,” she said.
After an emotional hug, Travis’s parents left for Annapolis, where Tom started making calls to military contacts while Kevin and Maureen also contacted various officials. Trying to bury Brendan and Travis next to each other at Arlington was an arduous, painful process filled with red tape and uncertainty, but both families were determined to make it happen.
After learning of the extraordinary circumstances being faced by both grieving families, Arlington National Cemetery informed the Looneys and Manions that Brendan and Travis would be buried side by side.
When the Manions told Amy, she embraced Janet. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you,” she said. “I didn’t want Brendan to be alone.”
From that moment forward, the afflicted families felt a powerful sense of consolation intermingled with their profound sense of loss. Reunited on America’s most revered burial ground, Brendan and Travis would once again be roommates.
First many distressing decisions had to be made about Brendan’s funeral, with the most pressing being whether his casket would be open or closed. Sarver, who worked nonstop to ensure that all arrangements were flawless, was asked by Amy and the Looney family to view Brendan’s remains and report back on the appearance of his body. They knew Brendan had trusted Sarver with his life, and now they asked him to help them make one of life’s most excruciating decisions. They needed to know whether their husband, son, and brother was fit to be seen.
Viewing his friend’s remains was a raw, jarring experience for Sarver, who would never get the image out of his mind. But after composing himself, the Navy SEAL turned his attention to the ribbons on his fallen brother’s uniform. Brendan, who had carried himself with such honor, courage, and distinction during fifty-nine combat missions in Afghanistan, was being awarded the Bronze Star with Valor, along with many other medals.
“His heroism under fire directly resulted in significantly degrading insurgent operations in northern Zabul Province, as well as 56 enemy killed in action,” read Brendan’s Bronze Star with Valor citation, signed by Rear Admiral E. G. Winters, Commander of Naval Special Warfare Command. “Lieutenant Looney’s extraordinary guidance, zealous initiative, and total dedication to duty reflected great credit upon him and upheld the highest traditions of United States Naval Service.”
Even if nobody else saw Brendan’s uniform, Sarver would make sure every inch of it was perfect.
As a special operations warrior, Sarver was often presented with questions of life and death that sometimes had no clear answer. After summoning all his inner strength, Sarver told the Looneys that he thought they should go see Brendan.
Amy initially declined to be involved in the most agonizing aspects of the funeral planning, until she overheard part of a discussion about covering Brendan’s face, which would already be heavily layered in makeup, with a veil.
“Brendan would never want a veil over his face,” Amy said. “Brendan was proud of what he was doing and I know everyone else here was too. So why hide anything? Remember what he always said: No regrets.”
Like the Manions three and a half years earlier, the Looney family courageously invited the American public to see the sacrifices of war up close. Brendan’s casket would be open, and on Sunday, October 3, 2010, thousands of mourners were invited to DeMatha Catholic High School in nearby Hyattsville to pay their respects.
Before Brendan’s remembrance ceremonies officially began, however, Amy and the Looneys joined the Manions on Friday at Arlington. After an extraordinary collaboration among two grieving families, the US military, local and state leaders, and officials at Arlington National Cemetery, the remains of First Lieutenant Travis Manion were being reinterred in Section 60, where so many fallen heroes of the Iraq and Afghanistan conflicts are buried. Three days after Travis was laid to rest, Brendan would join him.
Though they never doubted their decision, Tom, Janet, and Ryan were concerned about the reinterment ceremony distracting from Brendan’s burial. Invitations wer
e limited to relatives and close friends, and news of the ceremony was kept quiet, even though a busload full of Marines from the recently dedicated Manion Hall—a barracks at The Basic School in Quantico, Virginia, named in honor of Travis—showed up anyway.
Before finalizing the plans, Tom had shared his family’s concerns with Amy.
“We know what a painful time this is,” said Tom, gently placing his hand on the young widow’s shoulder. “Please don’t feel like you have to be at the reinterment. The next few days should be all about Brendan.”
“I appreciate that,” Amy responded. “But you can count on all of us being there. . . . We want to honor Travis the right way too.”
Rarely does a wife, mother, father, brother, or sister sit in full view of a loved one’s eventual gravesite just three days before the funeral. But as compassionate, courageous Americans, that’s exactly what Amy and the Looney family did.
Sitting directly behind Tom, Janet, Ryan, Dave, and Maggie on a serene fall afternoon, Amy was dressed in a black outfit with large, dark sunglasses similar to the ones she had seen Ryan wearing at Travis’s first burial. She was totally numb by the time a Marine Gunnery Sergeant knelt in front of Tom and Janet and handed them a folded American flag.
“On behalf of the President of the United States, the Commandant of the Marine Corps, and this grateful nation, please accept this flag—once again—as a symbol of our appreciation,” the Marine said. “It’s a symbol of your son’s honorable and faithful service to this country and his code.”
As Tom put his arm around Janet, who was nodding her head in appreciation, the Gunnery Sergeant stood and slowly saluted the Manions and Looneys before kneeling down again. The ground beneath him was covered with a piece of artificial turf, as this hallowed portion of Section 60 was mostly dirt. Americans were still dying in Afghanistan and Iraq almost every week, and many more funerals were expected. The Marine then removed his white glove to shake the now-retired Marine Corps colonel’s hand.
“You all have our deepest sympathy,” the Marine said. “May God continue to bless you and your family, with a heavenly smile on each and every one of you. Thank you, and we love you.”
Throughout the service, Maureen, Bridget, Erin, Kellie, and Ali took turns wrapping their arms around Amy. In a moment of profound sadness, each Looney also held a small American flag.
After remarks from the priest and the singing of a hymn, Tom stepped up to the podium next to a framed picture of his son. The spot where Travis would be reinterred, covered in flowers, was directly in front of him.
“I’d like to start off by thanking everyone for being here today as we move Travis to his final resting place,” Tom said. “I want to also take this opportunity to acknowledge the Umbrells that are here. Their brave son Colby, the hero, is buried just a few yards away on this sacred ground.”
After paying tribute to the family of the fallen Doylestown soldier and welcoming other relatives of departed military heroes, Travis’s father said what was on everyone’s minds.
“But most especially, I want to thank the Looney family for their presence here today,” he said. “Our hearts go out to you as you deal with this incredible loss. Brendan represents the best this country has to offer. We mourn him now, and we will forever, the passing of this American hero.”
The Manions were laying their beloved Travis to rest, but throughout the entire ritual, their paramount concern was the Looneys.
“There are so many mixed emotions for us as we move Travis to this place of honor,” Tom said. “Brendan’s loss fills all our waking hours, yet we’re moving Travis to be next to his great friend, and together, with all their warrior brothers and sisters, who have paid their full measure defending freedom.
“This solemn place leaves us with a sadness for the sacrifices, but also extremely proud of these brave Americans who so unselfishly and courageously stepped forward to confront the evil that faces our world,” he continued. “We, the families of these defenders of freedom, can’t begin to describe the void that fills our hearts, but we can tell you how much our sons and daughters loved this country and all that it stands for. We are now their voice.”
As Tom continued his moving address, he was interrupted by a plane flying overhead, presumably taking off from or landing at nearby Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. In the anxious days after 9/11, as Travis and Brendan studied and trained in Annapolis, the mere sound of a jet had terrified many Americans, especially in Washington and New York. More than nine years later, however, most no longer feared a terrorist attack from the sky, largely thanks to the sacrifices of the men and women who had answered the call to serve.
“So Travis, as we lay you here today beside your brother, Brendan, and with all your fellow patriots, we will always remember the selfless service and sacrifice, and we will continue to rally in your honor with the call: ‘If not me, then who . . . ’” Tom said. “To make a difference for others and to always step forward to do what’s right, no matter what the cost.
“God bless you, my son, and rest in peace with your warrior brothers and sisters,” Travis’s father concluded. “First Lieutenant Travis Manion, United States Marine Corps, Lieutenant Brendan Looney, United States Navy: warriors for freedom, brothers forever.”
As Tom, Janet, Ryan, and Dave greeted dozens of mourners after the ceremony, someone gave Travis’s mother a bouquet of flowers. Janet then pointed toward Amy, who was staring blankly at the dirt while still holding an American flag, and requested Maggie’s help.
“Sweetie, would you give these to Amy?” Janet asked her four-year-old granddaughter.
Throughout the worst ordeal of Amy’s life, Janet was there, along with Christina, Maureen, Bridget, Erin, Kellie, and Ali, to lend the type of support that only kindhearted, benevolent women can lend another.
That night, with Travis reinterred and Brendan’s funeral on the horizon, almost everyone went out for a solemn evening in Annapolis. While many of Brendan’s fellow SEALs drank Bud Light due to the “BL” initials on each bottle, Amy, Janet, Ryan, and Tom did shots of Patrón to salute Travis and Brendan at McGarvey’s, which was always one of their favorite bars. There, Brendan’s wife and Travis’s sister talked for hours, laying the foundation for a close friendship that would soon resemble sisterhood. Even in death, Amy’s “friend-finder” was still at work.
On an otherwise quiet Saturday morning, Amy still jumped every time the phone rang or a door opened. Even after seeing the very spot in which her husband would be buried, which was just to the right of Travis’s resting place, the SEAL’s widow still believed an egregious error had been made and that Brendan would emerge, unscathed, from an undisclosed location in Afghanistan.
Her hopes ended when she walked out of the funeral home’s elevator and turned the corner toward the room where her husband lay in his open casket.
When she saw Brendan’s unmistakable profile, Amy felt like she’d been slapped in the face, punched in the stomach, and hit by a car all at the same time. In a moment of sheer anguish, she collapsed to the floor and cried harder than anyone in the room had ever seen.
The scene was excruciating for all to witness, especially Sarver, who approached Amy’s mom a few hours later. He was worried that he had made the wrong decision by saying he thought it was appropriate to view Brendan, to which Christina replied that she believed he had made the right call.
Later, Kevin and Maureen also took Sarver aside to convey their gratitude. Not only was Sarver in Iraq when his close friend died, but in the tragic aftermath, he had spent almost three weeks helping arrange the funeral’s every detail. A few months later, when the mist began to clear, Amy also thanked Sarver, sending him a framed picture of Brendan in Afghanistan, as well as the March 22, 2007, entry from her then boyfriend’s journal.
“I am living with Rob Sarver also,” Brendan had written. “Together he and I will crush BUD/S.”
After the private viewing was Sunday’s public wake at DeMatha, the
high school alma mater of Brendan, his brothers, their dad, and several uncles. The turnout stunned even those who expected a large crowd, as people from every walk of Brendan’s life drove, took trains, or flew in to view his casket and look at the many pictures, from boyhood to manhood, displayed nearby. On that Sunday there was no prouder, more patriotic setting than the packed DeMatha Catholic High School gym.
The heartbreaking backdrop also prompted several close friends and relatives to take breaks. At one point Ben Mathews, the Navy linebacker whose face was once bloodied by a bone-crushing hit from Brendan after he failed to hustle in football practice, was sitting outside the gymnasium with Ryan.
“I just have this picture in my head of Brendan and Travis at my wedding,” a visibly shaken Mathews said. “I just can’t believe this, Ryan. . . . I can’t fucking believe it.”
Ryan simply nodded. In the wake of a second inconceivable tragedy in less than four years, there wasn’t much that anyone, other than those who would speak so eloquently at Brendan’s remembrance services, could say.
With well over a thousand people inside, Brendan’s parents were busy greeting mourners. Amy, still in shock after seeing her husband’s body, could not handle doing that for more than a few minutes. When she wasn’t upstairs taking a break, she usually stood next to her mom and Janet, who put her arm around Brendan’s wife and held her upright whenever her knees began to buckle. During one particularly sad moment for Amy, both she and Janet realized they were facing DeMatha’s wrestling room.
“Okay, let’s go ahead and face the other direction,” Janet said with her arm around Amy. The wrestling mat was a clear reminder of Travis, just as a lacrosse stick would naturally remind them of Brendan. When Amy started to cry, Janet spoke.
“Remember the story about how the boys went on a bike ride with that poor kid and basically left him out in the woods because they started racing?” Janet said. “They were always competing, those two.”
“Gosh, I know, it’s just like the first time I went for a quote-un-quote ‘jog’ with them and it ended up basically being a half marathon,” Amy said, wiping away tears with a handkerchief. “I can almost guarantee that after shaking hands, the first thing Travis and Brendan did when they first saw each other again up there was go for a run.”
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