Thread by @Beorn2000

There's a very interesting story about discovering my grandfather's name in the Courts of the Missing at National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific (Punchbowl Cemetery) in Honolulu, HI.

Two stories, actually.

My wife and I were vacationing in Honolulu, because the church where I worked sent us there as a Thank You in the midst of a very turbulent time. We made almost nothing, so this was a once in a lifetime experience.

I was unaware that my grandfather's name was inscribed in the memorial, as was any of my family (otherwise they would've told us to visit it while we were there).

While in Honolulu (and having very little money), we were enticed to a free breakfast where they pitched different touring packages.

Normally, I hold these types of things in disdain, but this was different. I figured we would probably never be in Hawaii ever again so why not splurge. One of the packages we chose was a bus tour.

The bus drove all over Oahu, including through Punchbowl Cemetery, where the guide informed us that due to recent enacted laws, they were not allowed to let us off the bus in the cemetery; they could only drive through.

The day we were to leave, our plane left in the evening, but we had to check out of the hotel in the morning, so we had time to kill before turning in our rental car.

We decided to drive up to Punchbowl and look out over Honolulu since it was the perfect vantage point.

(not my picture)

After about a half hour, we decided to leave. We were driving around the back of the Courts of the Missing memorial when, on a complete whim, I decided to pull into a parking space, and look around.

We wandered into the top of the memorial, where they have mosaics of famous battles along the colonnaded hallway.

(not my pictures)

After giving the mosaics a cursory look, I then wandered down the steps in the middle of the memorial. I noticed "Vietnam" and "Korea" on the top of the walls around a couple of courtyards, and kept wandering.

After a few minutes, something clicked. I vaguely remembered my grandfather had died at sea during WWII (having only known him through a picture and a couple of medals my mom kept in a box), and thought to look for him.

I found one of the WWII courtyards, and began scouring the names (listed in alphabetical order).

(not my picture)

I would eventually find my grandfather's name, and take this picture with a crappy disposable, underwater camera (this was the mid 90's after all).

(my picture)

Thinking back, it felt like I was being guided by some unseen Force. The whole series of events was coincidence stacked upon coincidence and I have no doubt that Someone was directing my wanderings that day. I was just the useful idiot.

Now for the second story.

Since I knew my mother had no idea her father's name was memorialized at a National Cemetery, I decided to surprise her.

We took photos all over the memorial, and monument. When we returned we arranged the photos into a mini photo album so that they would "telescope" in.

When my folks came to visit shortly after our return, we sat down with my mom and gave her the photo album without spoiling the surprise.

We narrated the pictures as she turned the pages:
"Here's the famous memorial you see in Hawaii 5-0."
"Here's the stairway leading up to the memorial."
"Here are the courtyards along the stairway for each conflict."
"Here's the WWII courtyard."
"Here's your fathers name."

We were expecting some kind of emotional response, but what we actually got was...nothing.

Shortly thereafter, she closed the album and we continued our visit just as if I'd told her that it would be 65° that day.

I was disappointed, but didn't let it show. After the visit, she took the album and left. My wife and I looked at each other, scratching our heads.

About a month later, my folks came to visit again. My mom told me that previously when we had shown her the album, she had the wind taken out of her.

She was only six when WWII started, and her father (a career Navy man) went off to war. Less than four years later, he would perish aboard the USS Bunker Hill in a kamikaze attack.

She relayed that she had never really known her father that well, and never grieved over his passing. The photo album was a shock and in the month after receiving it, she was able to mourn his passing for the first time in her life.

So while the photo album was initially disappointing, its effects would up be far more profound than I could have every imagined. Again, it would seem that this useful idiot was being guided by a knowing Hand.