Burying friends is a job no one enjoys; it is a misery no matter how you say it. It is too soon to die even if they are near a century in age because death is so final for us left behind. We did our duty this week and put a good neighbor and friend away proper like and paid our respects to the family. Being solemn doesn't look good on me and trying to hide leaking eyes is a hard job. I know it is natural but makes me feel sorta like a sissy.
The funeral was long and two preachers are one too many when the church is packed and the many bodies are pressed together. The family was grieved,76 and wailing was in the air, sobs shook the foundations of our hearts. Buster was 76 years old and a firm believer in the Lord. He had his ticket to heaven in his pocket and was ready to travel. That will ease the pain eventually for his family but not immediately.
Sure, I am not work brittle, but thankful for a job or two after an occasion of misery. I was ready to build fence, work cattle, load square bales or whatever after all the agony was passed. I rounded up the offspring and we discussed the need for repairing hay rings, new used tires for the hay truck, cleaning out the grain bin where I fed all the coons and varmints in the county before winter seeps in through the cracks of September. I gave my opinion readily to some of their ideas, and they listened to mine.
My close relative was not home from the church when I got in for the evening, so I made coffee and sat on the porch to sip a cup. Old Dog was grateful for the attention and I relaxed to the evening songs of the mockingbird. I can see the corner of the pasture where the fall calving cows are and some of them were munching there. What a pleasure life is, small things and big ones to press in our memories like flowers in my sainted mother's Bible! The lights finally showed up in the lane and the day was about done.
I helped carry dishes and stuff from the funeral dinner into the house and we didn't talk much as we put things away. My close relative asked me about supper, and I realized I did not want any. She made another swipe of the counters, turned out the light and we went back to the porch with hot coffee and our thoughts. Dusk is a special time, not dark and not light, just makes objects look black like in a black and white film.
It is my opinion, and everyone has one, suffer when you need to, like at the death of a friend or loved one, grieve deeply and depend on others for a time. We know that life goes on and the ones we thought we could not live without would not return if they could. We gotta keep the place up, feed the horses and cattle, love the grands and each other a little better every day. We help where we can and then move on.
Bill is the pen name used by the Gravette area author of this weekly column. Opinions expressed are those of the author.Editorial on 09/05/2018
Print Headline: Suffer when you need to