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In Memoriam |
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Cpl. JayGee Meluat, U.S.M.C (KIA)
Family lays soldier to rest
21 guns salute fallen Guam Marine
Upon command, seven Marines shot rifle volleys, once, twice, thrice yesterday, in honor of fallen U.S. Marine Corps Cpl. JayGee Ngirmidol Meluat.
The sound of the rifle shots echoed off the crypts of other veterans at the Guam Veterans Cemetery in Piti.
With each shot, Melanie Abuan Meluat flinched.
Then as the echoes of the rifle shots faded, the bugle sounded Taps. Each drawn-out note seemed to accompany the young widow's tears as the ceremony went on to bury her husband, one of more than 1,000 members of the United States military killed in the continuing U.S. military operation in Iraq.
At the age of 24, JayGee Meluat, a husband, son, father and friend, was killed by enemy fire in Al-Anbar province in Iraq on Sept. 13.
JayGee Meluat's young wife received the news of her husband's death on the night she was celebrating their daughter's birthday, Sept. 13.
At that point, only 24 days remained until JayGee Meluat would have returned from his deployment in Iraq. But instead of preparing for a happy homecoming in their California home, Melanie Meluat made arrangements for her husband's funeral.
Last week, she and her daughter flew back to Guam to bury her husband.
She later said that during yesterday's funeral service at Santa Teresita Church, she would gaze at her husband's face and wonder: "Why? Why him?"
Deprived of her husband's presence, she tried to explain his death to their 3-year-old daughter MiaCai.
"He did everything for me. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, he was doing everything for me. He was the perfect husband and we had such a happy marriage and a wonderful life together with our daughter," Melanie Meluat said after the burial ceremony. "I already had his welcome home gift. It was a Honda CBR motorcycle. Now I don't know what to do with it."
For Melanie Meluat, looking forward is difficult without her husband by her side.
"I don't know what I'm going to do now. Do I move back to Guam? Do I stay in California? There's -- I don't know -- so much about the future that I don't know."
JayGee Ngirmidol Meluat was a native of Palau and later moved to Guam. A 1999 graduate of George Washington High School, he was assigned to the 3rd Assault Amphibian Battalion, 1st Marine Division, I Marine Expeditionary Force, based at Camp Pendleton in San Diego, Calif.
JayGee Meluat's best friend in high school, Senior Airman Anthony Santos, found out on Sept. 14 that his best friend had died. Santos is assigned to the Air Force's 435th Vehicle Readiness Squadron based in Germany.
"My family called me and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say," Santos said. A week later, he flew to Guam to attend "Jay's" funeral.
Santos and JayGee Meluat met during their senior year at GW in a video class. One day, JayGee Meluat needed a ride home and Santos had a car and some spare time.
"Basically, after that we were inseparable. We became best friends," Santos said.
Santos said he had introduced JayGee Meluat to the then Melanie Abuan.
"I really liked them both and after a while, I started basically throwing them together. I think Jay liked Mel first, but I always used to tell Mel that Jay liked her. And then I would go to Jay and tell him that she likes him back," Santos said with a grin. "I have a lot of fond, fond memories of us."
Santos shared one memory: he had left JayGee Meluat at his future wife's house one day and later went to pick him up. On their way home, the two guys realized the gas gauge on Santos' car was showing "E." They had no money in their wallets. But the two pulled out their pockets, turned over the ashtray, and scrounged underneath seats and car mats.
"He walked into the gas station and paid for gas with 300 pennies," Santos said with a grin. "That was unforgettable."
As people cleared the cemetery after the funeral, JayGee Meluat's mother, Belbult Techur Meluat, sat by the grave, which now serves as the final resting place for her son's body.
"Ngdiak kudengei el kmo akdmul kmo ngerang," the grieving mother said of her youngest child's death. The Palauan words, roughly translated, mean: "I don't know what to say."