Funeral

Sometimes the most powerful images are those that we don’t take. In the same way, not speaking sharpens what we want to say. Today was like that. So here are a series of images in words.

First image: The widow, wheeled out in a wheelchair, her fragile body filling just half the chair. The wailing, like Lear’s, shaking souls to their roots.

Second image: At the cemetery, a line of bare trees in the whiteness broken by a single tree lifting a “leg” to dance in the midst of sorrow. As I encircle it, I see that the “lifted leg” is an unconnected stump; a dead thing still needed – in this case – to remind us that  joy is plentiful.

Third image: At the cemetery exit, one iron bar is glowing red like a brand. The fire goes out when the van in front of us moves into traffic.

Fourth image: Sam (the dearly departed), smiling, laughing as he always did. What a guy. I’ll miss him.