We buried Uncle C.

Yesterday, my husband's aunt came in with his cousins. Uncle C. died on Sunday, in Georgia, where they lived. But he was from Fincastle originally and wanted to be buried in Godwin Cemetery (which is where the above picture was taken).

I only met Uncle C. a few times. He was a pilot for a major airline and the family did not come home to Botetourt often. I like my husband's cousins and his aunts; they all welcomed me most graciously into the family.

Uncle C. was cremated in Georgia, and they held a memorial service there. Then they all came north to us.

Aunt N. had a graveside service for her husband of 52 years. The day was partly cloudy and quite cold. It is always windy and cold up on the hill in Godwin Cemetery, even in July. I bundled up and had on ear muffs, thankfully, or I could not have withstood it. As it was, several of the older folks were visibly shivering and many of us huddled together for warmth.

The preacher came from Georgia with Aunt N. and gave a nice eulogy and the prerequisite sermon to save our souls. Unfortunately, considering the cold of the day, it seemed rather long-winded. But as I told my husband later, we all deserve our last words, however cold it may be when they're said.

Uncle C. had served in the Air Force, so an honor guard attended. A buglar played taps while two other servicemen unfolded a flag and then refolded it. We could not figure out the symbolism of this, but my husband finally decided that because there was no casket and no place to drap the flag, they unfolded and refolded. Perhaps some serviceman reading this knows?

Afterwards, with feet so cold we cold scarcely walk from the hilltop, we trooped down to the meeting room in the church for a luncheon and get-together. There were about 65 of us, a nice number, I thought, considering how long it's been since Uncle C. lived in the area. Many of the folks in town remembered him and came to pay their respects.

Funerals are sad times, but they are also about the only times families get together anymore. The days of cousins twice-removed who know one another are about gone. These days you could be marrying your cousin and not even know it, we're so scattered about.

Farewell, Uncle C. Rest peacefully.