Author Topic: A Memorial  (Read 1587 times)

Offline Alice, a Country Gal

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A Memorial
« on: September 12, 2008, 02:02:16 PM »
I'm not sure what (if anything) I'll do with this.  More than anything I believe I needed to write it all down because it touched me so deeply. 

If anyone cares to comment or critique, that is fine.  If someone has other experiences to share, that is fine too.

 * * * * *

I recently went to a memorial with my daughter-in-law to help her represent my son who was out of town and unable to attend. The memorial was for the husband of a woman my son used to work with; he had become friends with both her and her husband.

The memorial was held at a small church in the country and since we were unfamiliar with the area it took us longer than expected to locate the church and we were therefore a little late. When we arrived there was a group singing The Old Rugged Cross. So we, along with other late arrivals, waited in the vestibule until they finished before entering the auditorium. The group that sang consisted of two men, one of them also played the guitar, and a woman.

Their next song was You Are My Sunshine.

After everyone had been seated and a brief description of the departed, Donny, was; the things he had accomplished for his family, community and country; a man came forward, took his place behind the podium and said something like this . . .


I'm going to ask everyone to close their eyes now. This is so you can better visualize the dream I'm about to tell you about. If you didn't get enough sleep last night, it would also be a good time to take a brief nap.

My dream began with me walking across a pasture. It was so real I could feel the rocks beneath my steps; I felt the noon time sun's warmth against my skin and the gentle breeze in my hair. I saw a clear blue stream not far ahead. There were fish jumping, making ripples in the water as they reentered the water. Everything was familiar and peaceful.

Upon reaching the stream I found myself wishing I had my fishing gear; fresh caught and fried fish out in the open always taste better somehow. Not being able to fish I decided to have a camp fire anyway.

It was plain someone had camped here before; there was already a fire pit complete with a ring of stones around the edges, all it lacked was wood and a fresh fire.
 
It didn't take long to gather some dead wood from the clump of trees near-by and I soon had a small fire snapping and crackling before me.

The sun was moving farther toward evening but in my dream there was no place I needed to be. Besides, it was so nice right where I was. I stretched out in the shade of a tree not far from my camp fire and allowed my mind to drift.

After a bit I opened my eyes and looked around. Danny and a three legged dog were strolling across the pasture toward me. Danny took a seat on a convenient rock half way between the fire and me, the dog stretched out at his feet.

We talked about this and that; nothing earth-shaking; just the easy conversation of long time friends. At some point I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew the warmth of the morning sun was warm on my face. Wiping the sleep from my eyes I looked around for Donny. When I spotted him, he was heading for a gate in a fence I hadn't noticed before.

“Where you going Donny?”

He turned with a smile and a wave, “It's time for me to go now. I'll see you later on down the road.”

At that point my dream ended but a sense of peace remained along with the knowledge I would someday meet him again.


The musical group came forward and started singing Happy Trails To You. It wasn't long before most of those in the auditorium joined in.

Taps sounded from just outside the open door of the church.

After the talk was finished, eight or ten Air Force personal came forward and performed a flag folding ceremony. The reason for the extra personal was apparently due to there not being a casket and thus the need for extra hands to prevent the flag from touching the floor.   

Three cannon shots sounded from outside the church.



After the memorial, my daughter-in-law and I were invited to the widow's home along with everyone else. When we arrived I not only saw most of the people who had been at the church. I also saw the three legged dog.


 
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The universe is made of stories, not of atoms. -Muriel Rukeyser, poet and activist (15 Dec 1913-1980)

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Offline rewh2oman

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Re: A Memorial
« Reply #1 on: September 12, 2008, 03:11:01 PM »
What to do with this? Cherish the memory.

Offline Alice, a Country Gal

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Re: A Memorial
« Reply #2 on: September 12, 2008, 03:14:24 PM »
What to do with this? Cherish the memory.

You are right of course.  Guess I was feeling a bit confused because I have never felt the need to write about a 'real' funeral or memoral before.  And this time the feeling that I HAD to write it all now wouldn't leave me until I had finished it.

Thanks.
MWC Charity Publications.
http://www.lulu.com/spotlight>
The universe is made of stories, not of atoms. -Muriel Rukeyser, poet and activist (15 Dec 1913-1980)

R. L. Copple's: http://www.rlcopple.com/

I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet.
-Mohandas K. Gandhi