The Funeral

We buried a mother, a daughter, a friend yesterday, Sky Jones Lewey. Figuratively and literally. We gathered at the church to view the body; hugged each other, hugged family, said kind words, said prayers, cried and then drove to the ranch for the interment in the shade of the trees. In an expansion of the Mexican tradition of mourners placing a handful of dirt on the coffin, mourners were offered shovels. The empty grave with Sky at the bottom in her brown wood casket was filled by hand; children and adults, all helped and had a practical lesson in the phrase, ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

As the burial proceeded and the deep grave filled, we sat in the shade of the same trees, ate, drank, chased the kids, and told stories about how we came to the river she loved, the Nueces, and how we came to know Sky. For us, for my family, it was through close family friends and her father. In the beginning, our trips to the river were trips to Elmo’s because that was her father’s name. When he passed, and became a memory, we began to say simply, we were going to the river. We went almost every year on Memorial Day. We all knew Sky. And the thread of our lives became woven into the threads of her life as we met her children and she met ours.

Now, in the glow of those years, I can hold the cloth of our life up to the light and see those threads glistening in the sun. I can think of fine days on the river when the water ran clear and cold. Sky would come to the camp to visit and sometimes sit with us in the river. I see the kids in snorkels dipping into the water. I see dogs chasing fish. I see my wife sitting in a chair in the river. I can feel me holding her hand as she walked across the uneven rocks through a rapid. I can hear the thunder and rain of a nighttime storm and feel her sleeping quietly beside me. All of which means, I believe, that Sky will not soon be forgotten by me, or anyone I know who knew her. The trees will grow green above her and the river will run clean because of her.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale

John W Wilson

Gatewood Press is a small, family owned press located in the Hill Country of Texas.

http://www.gatewoodpress.com
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