Thank you, Daddy
When I was young, I loathed the publication of grief. I hated the wail of ambulances, screaming death through the streets. Even more, I detested the sight of the black crawling hearse, dragging all of us unwillingly into the otherwise-private funeral procession.
I’ve mellowed in those opinions, which I held very strongly, very vocally. But it occurred to me yesterday that daddy died peacefully at home, no ambulance necessary. His resting place will be an urn, no need for a casket. We’ll drive the urn to Chapel Hill, no hearse-led death parade. We will inter him ourselves with a shovel, no need for the sordid green tent and folding chairs.
I know Daddy did not take into account my peculiarities when deciding his funeral. Still, I appreciate it. love you, Daddy.