requiescat in pace
great-uncle stan was interred today. as he hadn't wanted a funeral service we all met outside the mortuary and i watched with interest the funeral director as he carried the little velvet bag of ash and bone. and him placing it on the seat of that impossibly black cadillac. the ground at the cemetery was squelchy and sopping... i'm surprised i came away with both my shoes. a lot of older people there and-- with the exception of stan's wife of sixty-five years-- i didn't see any of them cry. i, on the other hand, wept like magdalen. i suppose the geezers have seen so much death that it truly has come to lose its sting-a-ling-a-ling.