I sure have been to a lot of funerals lately. I guess when you become older than dirt, that happens.
One funeral was conducted by a preacher who loved to sing. Not only did he lead the congregation in song, but when he followed the deceased up the aisle, he was belting out a song with all he had. And yes, he was good at it.
At another funeral, the deceased for decades had always sat in the same seat. If you’re a church-goer, you know that the faithful will always sit in the same spot, and woe be to those who dare to occupy that spot.
At this funeral, a huge spray of red and white carnations was fashioned, at least 3 feet long, and placed in her spot. It probably remained there for days. I have a feeling it will be years before anyone new sits there.
While this individual was a longtime member at a Baptist church, she had been in the county for over five decades, and those present were half Baptist and half Methodist.
When it’s my time to head to that family reunion in the heavens, I will be buried with my parents in Akron, Ohio, my hometown. C. J. Mowell seems to have taken to shipping people to their final resting place if it’s many miles away. I told him that if he didn’t personally drive me to Akron, I would come back and haunt him.
I have instructed Shelby Travis Parrish and C. J. as to an engraved bench I would like placed in the Fayetteville City Cemetery. Shelby knows where it is to go.
They don’t have to get right on it, though. I feel pretty confident I’ll be around for another ten years. Much to the consternation of a certain elected official, I’m sure.
