The Funeral

After my Uncle's funeral today, we took our time leaving the cemetery. It was hard to leave. It always is.

About 500 people came through the visitation last night. Afterward, we went to my aunt's. The neighbors had brought food, desserts, and drinks. Tables were set up in the garage. Though my bereaved aunt had stood greeting people non-stop for four hours, I saw a second wind begin. She was revitalized by the distraction, the love, and the normalness of having people around. A party began with the potential to go long into the night. We left.

I spoke at the funeral this afternoon. Although I merely read the thoughtful words shared by others, I choked through it. I always lose it when I see big men cry. The congregation was full of them. We caravaned to the cemetery to say our final goodbyes. We lingered as long as we could, visiting my grandparents and other family, then headed back to the church to be fed by the church ladies - a breed that is indispensable.

We were the last to leave the church. I packed up our clothes, I packed up the kids and headed to my aunt's to say goodbye before leaving town. I don't want to leave her, but when I pulled up, the tables were in the driveway lined with wine bottles. Small towns are good.