I'm glad we went

My Daddy's sister died Monday. She had been sick for a while and just couldn't hold on any longer. She was a very nice lady, and she will be missed.

My parents called to say they were leaving early Tuesday morning to drive 5 1/2 hours to where the visitation and funeral would be. I asked Daddy if he wanted me there, and he said no.

"You don't need to drive all the way down here," Daddy said. "You've got work and Jeff and Griffin. There's nothing you can do down here anyway."

He was basically right, but at the same time, I just had this nagging feeling that I needed to be there. I called my brother, and he was having the same thoughts.

"What do you want to do?" he asked me.

"I don't know," I said. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," he said.

I told him that it was a long way to go in one day and come back the next. And, I said, Daddy said not to come. Jeff's busy with work, and I'd have to leave Biscuit with him. I knew my brother had work to do, and he has three kids in school, and his wife works part time. There were just all these reasons not to go.

But ultimately, I realized that all that stuff was secondary to the fact that we wanted to be there for our Daddy. I knew that if we didn't go, two weeks from now, we'd regret it.

I left Tuesday morning and drove 2 1/2 hours to pick up my brother. Then from his house, it was another 5 1/2 hours to the funeral home. I did all the driving, and my brother worked all the way there. He must've sent 50 text messages and 50 emails and took 50 phone calls. And I made fun of him because he has a "work phone voice" that doesn't sound like his regular voice.

Our great aunt's house was about 10 minutes from the funeral home, so we stopped there to change clothes. We had built in a little bit of time, so we had about 45 minutes to sit and visit with her.

We got to the funeral home and didn't know much of anybody. But as we walked around the corner to our family's room, we saw Mama and Daddy.

My Daddy isn't a crier, but when he saw us, he teared up. It didn't take but a second to regain his composure, though.

He walked over to us and said, "I told y'all not to come here."

"We haven't listened to you so far," I said. "Why should we start now?" That got a smile out of him.

After the funeral home, Mama, Daddy, my brother and I went to a 24-hour restaurant to get some dinner. It was about 9 p.m. by the time we got our food, and as we started eating, Mama asked, "So where are y'all staying tonight?"

My brother and I looked at each other, both shrugged and said, "Dunno."

So I took out my cellphone and called my uncle (Mama's brother), where Mama and Daddy were staying.

He answered the phone, and I said, "If one were to find oneself in your town with no place to stay for the night, what would one do?"

"One would bring oneself to my house," he said.

"And what if one had one's brother with one?" I asked.

"One would grab one's brother and come on over," he said.

The next morning, we saw a few more people on Mama's side of the family, then we headed to the funeral, which was a graveside service. There was a nice turnout, and the minister said some really nice things about my aunt. 

But something funny happened before the service started.

An older man who was unsteady on his feet was walking toward the tent. He wasn't family, but he needed a chair, so the funeral director was leading him to where he could sit down. As the man passed by, I glanced up and saw this big black bug on the back of his shirt.

Before I could say anything, one of the gravediggers stepped out from under the side tent, walked nonchalantly past the man, scooped the bug off his back, walked out past the rest of the people, threw the bug down and walked right back to his spot under the side tent.

I thought that was a very cool thing for him to do. He and the other gravedigger just smiled and nodded at each other.

After the service was over, this man walked up to my brother.

"Hey, old man," he said. "How are you?"

"I'm good," my brother said. "How 'bout you?"

"I'm good, good," he said. "You still in the business?"

"Yeah," my brother said. "Still gettin' it done. How 'bout you?"

"Yeah," the man said. "I'm still in it, too. Hey, every time I think about you, I remember that night we ate that whole box of those little hamburgers. Remember that?"

"The good memories are the best ones to hold on to," my brother said.

"Man, it was good to see you," he said.

"Good to see you, too," my brother said.

The guy walked away, and I asked my brother, "Who was that?"

My brother said, "I got no idea, but I didn't feel like this was the place to tell the man he didn't know what he was talking about. And besides, it sounds like we had a good time that night."

Some people might be surprised about the ease with which my brother worked his way through that conversation, but not me. That boy has been talking crap for years!

Our parents met us at one of my favorite burger joints as my brother and I were on the way out of town. We tried to remember the last time just the four of us sat around a table for a meal. No spouses, no kids, just the original four.

Even though it was a sad occasion that brought us together, I enjoyed the time with my immediate family, as well as the cousins, aunts and uncles we saw. And as my brother and I were leaving, our Daddy said, "I'm glad y'all didn't listen to me. I'm glad you came."

That was worth the 14 hours of driving and then some.