12/1/08. Cold, overcast, rainy…with some sleet and the odd snowflake mingled in. A small town deep in the rural South. Tiny little chapel in the only funeral home in the county. The red-eyed eldest daughter, icily determined to observe the proper rituals, surrounded by extended family. The son, ramrod straight in his dress uniform, on leave from the army. Grandchildren, subdued, not really understanding, but knowing it was sad. Quiet, country/gospel music. Funeral flowers flanking the casket. The brother, in from far off Nebraska, returned home to bury his sister, delivering a brief eulogy with halting humility. A tall preacher talking about love, redemption, and eternal life. Open casket for final farewells. A small child saying “Grandmaw gets to spend Christmas with Jesus” with solemn sincerity. Black and white faces side by side in the pews…something that would have been virtually unthinkable when the deceased was born. Time marches on. Police escort to the cemetary. Cross traffic stopped to allow the procession to pass. A shivering, hurried graveside service. The whole experience was surreal. I’m not a relative, wasn’t a close friend. Just a collegaue/boss observing the formalities. Sat quietly in the back of the chapel. Spoke to the family. Meaningless pleasantries exchanged with strangers. Duty observed. And tommorrow, life goes on.
R.I.P., Debbie. I’m glad to have known you.
