My uncles were all talkative men. Everyone of them were emotional. I have seen all 5 cry, including my Dad. They were loving and they were loved. They married strong women, like their Mother. They played 42 and dominoes under the trees at family reunions.
Dan and Joe became helicopter pilots and taught the Viet Nam pilots how to fly. Joe lost his son-in-law, a pilot in that war. My Dad was too young for one war and too old for the other. Jay and Matt fought in World War II where both were wounded. They returned to live in the small North Texas town most famous for it’s sausage.
It is kind of a quiet dry little town that featured a gas station and a Dairy Queen, both owned by Uncle Jay. In the 90’s there was a renovation and the downtown area has antique shops and a bed and breakfast now. Reba Mc Intyre is well known to most of the residents and she tries to make it for the 4th of July celebration.
December has been a bad month for letting go of life. My Dad died in 1993. We buried him the day before Christmas Eve. And Uncle Jay let go last month. He was the nurturer. A strong handsome man who was was known for his generosity and his cooking.
I stood on Cross Hill, which is not really a hill at all, between the graves of my grandmother and my Aunt. It was surprising how much space on the tombstone that my Grandma’s Indian name took up……”Ida Mae Flower-on-the-Prairie Jackson Hunter Temple”
The grandchildren and great grandchildren of 10 siblings played among the trees and graves. The whole town was there. It was a rainbow funeral. It turned into sweater weather on a day where the drizzle had stopped.
My ex beauty queen cousins had aged gently. Their grandchildren like mine are indigo children. The Temple blood from Germany and Oklahoma Indian, now has Africa and Mexico and India in it’s veins.
I couldn’t hear the service. But I wasn't listening anyway. I was remembering the helicopter rides, and the laughter of my uncles. They gave great big bear hugs and wore cowboy boots. I was thinking about the plays the children gave to my uncles. My Aunts were usually clustered in the kitchen, but my Uncles would applaud and laugh and sing along. They drove fast on country roads and listened to country music loud. I was saying goodbye to Uncle Jay in my way.
There were a lot of well shined cowboy boots on Cross Hill that day. I was looking at the blue haired girl whose sister had naturally red hair. Suddenly the clouds parted. Everyone looked up and pointed. The sun shined through some dark clouds. A rainbow touched the edges of the clouds. The Baptist preacher continued to share. There was beauty in the day.
I was thinking of a Viking funeral. And I could have sworn I saw a longboat burning in those clouds.
Good journey Uncle Jay…give my Daddy a great big hug.
