A free-verse poem about how I spent my April 14, 2009. |
Get out my dark blue suit and extra-long tie. I hate dressing up and therefore do it so seldom, but today it’s warranted. Drive to the biggest Baptist church in Ruston. Wow, this sanctuary is huge, with video screens and an enormous pipe organ – a truly fancy town church. The casket sits at the front surrounded by spray after spray of gorgeous flower arrangements. I breathe in the smell of roses. The casket is covered with a blanket of red roses, with more red roses standing at each end. She did love red roses. Family and friends fill the room, a sea of sad faces and wet eyes. Three hymns and two preachers later, those assembled now file by the open casket to pay respect, followed by her family members. Many of the women break down into crying, as the men fight hard to maintain their composure. Husband Travis stops and sobs. Travis now ready, we pallbearers carry the casket out the front door to the hearse, waiting with back standing open to swallow the casket. A procession many, many cars long snakes its way slowly along back country roads, finally arriving at St. Rest Church’s Cemetery on White Lightning Road. Her and Travis’s small country church sits watching from across the road. We carry the blue casket up the rise to the tent-covered, prepared gravesite. Only the presence of graves with their monuments distinguishes this country cemetery from adjacent cow pastures. Family sit; friends stand; the two preachers say some final words. Services done, we pallbearers file past, laying our rose boutonnieres atop the casket and comforting poor Travis. The mourners all walk across the road to the church, where the good ladies of the congregation have laid out tables of ample country-style eats to feed the entire assemblage. After second helpings of fried chicken, deviled eggs, creamed corn, baked beans, assorted dips, fruit salads, and three desserts, I drive home to Shreveport with a heavy heart. Goodbye, Aunt Margie. You were well-respected and loved by all who had the pleasure to know you. I am glad I was among those so fortunate. You were a great country lady. Margie Lea Doss Hood March 10, 1933 – April 11, 2009 Please check out my ten books: http://www.amazon.com/Jr.-Harry-E.-Gilleland/e/B004SVLY02/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0 |