MEMORIES OF A FUNERAL

Memories of a Funeral.
It’s well past midnight. I sit beside an oil lamp in a city that sleeps
late, as we all ponder the events of today. It’s the last hurrah of
summer and the shadows of winter have crept in ever so slowly into
 this season of despair. 
We were robbed by the death of a beloved brethren, and this closed
and tight community feels the loss of terribly.
We are what we are, and who we are, and then there is the family, the neighbors, and friends.
Who am I to the departed, I still don’t know, but I am here to say
 “Goodbye.”
Early this evening darkness came early, and grave diggers were busy
at the cemetery plot. I could smell the freshly dug earth, and when
all was said and done, as we all stood around I could hear the
wooden coffin scrape the sides of the grave as it gently settled at
the bottom, in the bosom of mother earth.
I turned towards my sister and whispered in her ear, “he was very
old, we are still very young, and we have a long way to go. “
he said “True, true, we shall see him on Judgment day” in the
meantime nobody better jump the line to the bathroom.

GOD Bless You.

May all be well with you.

DMD

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