Everyone had to say something nice about Beeno.
We stood around his grave. My brother put a large rock at his head. Each of us had something wonderful to say.
My niece cried and gave me a hug. I was inconsolable.
J sat in the truck because he was crying. I think he was trying not to look weepy in front of my brother.
I tried to get the dirt off of the rock my brother had placed on the grave. When I wasn't doing it very well, my brother reached down to do it for me.
I was moved by that gesture. He recognized the importance of Beeno in my life and did nothing but help me in this transition. No ridicule, no harsh words. Kind gestures. I love my family.
We went to see my mother who was quite upset that I didn't stop to get her. I regret that now.
We walked back to the grave together. She was fighting back tears. I just cried.
Seeing it for the first time without the backhoe and without my truck was wrenching. Here lay my bubby.
Buried, alone, cold, dead.