Posts Tagged ‘short stories’
My father told this story about his own father. Naturally, it improved with the telling over the years. We so often forget what life was like when such sacrifices were demanded.
We buried Uncle Henry at the little cemetery at Roslin. My father, dressed in his black suit, starched collar and bowler hat, made a stark figure against the brilliant June sky. I looked up at the family gravestone, tall as a church spire. Father stared down at the open grave. Cows grazed in the field beyond the fence, the wind sang through the grasses and flocks of birds swarmed up against the sky. They lowered the coffin into the ground. (more…)