Uncle Herbert's Funeral

We entered another world to say good-bye to Uncle Herbert.
His funeral was pure Realitos, a dusty ramshackle town near the Mexican border.
We filed into the tiny frame Baptist church nestled beside a grassy parking lot.
The sticker burrs jumped to greet us.
Cousins who had not seen each other in years dished out warm hugs.
Most of the men were in boots and cowboy hats.
They talk country in Realitos -
"ain't" and "cain't" and "they was" with thick Texas twangs.

The elderly soloist charmed us with waves in her voice
as she crooned "It Is Well" to begin the service.
The minister regaled us with wonderful Herbert stories.
Herbert's only child, Lily, tearfully remembered her father
and thanked all of us for coming.
Gary, the long lost cousin, poignantly expressed appreciation
for Herbert's telling him stories of the father he never knew.
Then Herbert's nephew Clark, himself a Baptist preacher,
sang the country western song "Where the Roses never Fade" with his wife.

We sat tightly in the pews
bundled up because of a rare Texas cold front.
We laughed.
We cried.
We hugged and treated each other tenderly.
Herbert would have liked that.
He was always a man of grace and good humor with a profound faith in God.

We stayed close while we huddled at graveside,
then enjoyed a meal of carne guisada and hot fresh tortillas
back at the Baptist church in Hebbronville.

Funerals often bring out the best in families.
Our broken hearts open to one another in ways that don't happen in regular times.
Uncle Herbert would have been pleased I think.
I sensed he would have smiled through that service,
knowing the people he loved the most were in his beloved Baptist church.
Rest in peace, dear Herbert.
We'll all be there soon enough.