Saying Goodbye
In January 2016, my uncle Kenny died. After several years of fighting Parkinson’s Disease, he lost that battle. It was a chilly winter day when I had the honor of placing this man to rest. From the years that he had raised me up as a child, it was with great humility that I set him down. As Vince Gill sang “Go Rest high on that mountain…”, I openly wept for that man. My aunt Donna kept a brave and happy face for the family, because we knew his hurt was over and he was with the Lord. When I walked past him, Kenny looked as healthy as when I last saw him. The funeral home had done a great job on him. When it was our time, he was so very light. Part of that was surely the weight he had lost, but also the five other men that helped me carry his burden. He was laid to rest at the family plot on the hill, overlooking the Green River. If there was a slice of heaven on earth, that was it. My biggest regret was that I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. I know my uncle Ken knew I loved him...