Well the music was sad
The widows all dressed in black and we sang
Told stories all about the good ole days
There were hugs to give and a few more tears to cry
Then we closed the lid and we gave him one last ride
And we laid him in the ground
And headed back to town
There were casseroles and pecan pies
Mama's sweet tea and beer on ice
Hell of a way to say goodbye I guess
Preacher clears his throat and then he said
Everybody bow your heads
And just like that everything was blessed
So here's to death, dyin' and deviled eggs
Straight to the point: It's been a hard few weeks. But it comes with the territory, I suppose. As we age, we lose people along the way. Some are family, some are friends, and some are just casual acquaintances.
It's the news of those in the last group that often comes as a surprise. Maybe you were close once, but over the years you've drifted apart. A job in another state, a divorce, or maybe you just don't run in the same circles anymore.
Then you see their name in the newspaper, or more likely these days, someone lets you know in an email. And you think, "that can't be right. I just saw them..."
Then it hits you, you last saw or talked with them when?
When you both were young. When you both had children at home, just starting careers, and still had time to share achievements, hopes, and dreams.
That's been the story for me. My son-in-law lost his father this past week. The service and burial was on Monday.
I've been asked to help write the obituary. It's not something I want to do, but is something I do out of respect.