Bobby, I can probably count on my fingers the times we met. We weren’t related by blood, but your clan and mine have been allied for nearly 40 years. Last time I saw you was about a year ago, you were 79 years old, and looked like you could whip my ass were you so inclined. You were a honest, hardworking, and honorable man. Your daughter is my uncle’s wife and your eldest grandson is my cousin. Your son is a fine man, and produced two more grandsons to continue your line. You made your mark on this world, and you left it a better place than you found it. It was an honor to carry your casket to your final resting place, Sir.
R.I.P., “Bobby”. 1930-2010.
Sounds like an honor indeed to be chosen for that last duty to a good man. Condolences to you and his loved ones.
Thanks. I think the pall bearer spot would rightfully have been my father’s, but he is no longer able to serve in that role. I was proud to stand in for him.
The local sheriff’s department provided escorts for the funeral procession, blocking each intersection ahead of us, and as the hearse passed, each officer snapped off a sharp salute. Once we got on to a two lane road, oncoming traffic pulled off the road as we passed.
The graveside service was mercifully brief. The heat was brutal. Fortunately, the funeral director had pre-positioned an ice chest of bottled water at the grave site, which helped.
What a beautiful tribute, Oakminster. Thanks for sharing a small part of him with us.