Gloria

As the sun set on Sabbath evening, I watched my best friend's step-father bury his wife.  The mother of my best friend was one of the kindest people you could have met, people said at the memorial service a few hours before.  People shared memories of her, ate a meal and cried together, and then gathered in a circle around her grave site to sing songs while she was laid in the ground.  The family took turns putting a shovel full of dirt over the urn, looking sorrowful and a bit odd, some of them in dresses and heels or suits.  Then Owen quickly removed his suit jacket and proceeded to gently and easily place the rest of the dirt over his beloved wife, as if he was tucking her in to bed.  The love and the devotion was a blessing to witness as he embraced the grieving process, letting all his love show at her death, just as he did in life.  I will always keep in my mind the picture of him, black suspenders over a black shirt, glasses slipping down his nose, shovel in hand, while the sun set behind him and the crickets and frogs sang their night-time chorus.  What a beautiful final act of love!