Comfort

When Grandmam died in her time in the spring of 1944, and we gave her to her rest at last in the graveyard at Shagbark and heard the beautiful psalm spoken over her, it seemed almost too orderly and natural to be sad.

Wendell Berry, Hannah Coulter

Berry's words bounced around in my head over the weekend. His ideas about death, written throughout his fiction, brought me great comfort when I read them last summer. Death at the end of a long life is natural and fitting.

Terry's family gathered yesterday and we all enjoyed the great comfort of being together with those we love. Terry's mom played the piano only briefly and her sisters sang the old hymns from their days as a traveling gospel trio in their long-ago youth. Tears flowed and hearts ached as all undoubtedly reflected on the fleeting nature of our lives on earth. How many more times will the three of them sing together?

Terry's Uncle Preach, a retired pastor, spoke one of his beautiful prayers before we shared dinner. Again, tears flowed from him and us and comfort followed.

Friends arrived throughout the day bearing food and cheer and we were humbled and comforted. My favorite church ladies will be serving dinner after the funeral today and we will all be blessed.

God is good.