You who know me, or follow my blog, know that I hate funerals, avoid them when possible and have even specified in my will that I am not to have one when I die. That being said, I attended one of the most beautiful, most touching and most quintessentially Texas funerals ever this past weekend.
My son-in-law's father died January 1st, and the funeral - graveside service only - was held on Saturday. Thomas Lee Ischy was born in Leander, TX, but lived most of his life in the little town of Bertram. He had been bedridden for years and hadn't been out in public for at least a decade, so I was amazed at the number of people who showed up to bid him farewell.
I don't have an exact figure, but I'm guessing the crowd was at least 250. The little two-lane road to the South San Gabriel Cemetery was lined on both sides for over a half a mile, easily over 100 cars and pickups.
Aside from the funeral director, the preacher(s) and one DPS Trooper, every male over the age of three was wearing Wrangler jeans, and about a third had belts with trophy buckles. I lost my boots in the Imelda flood, so I was one of only about a half dozen who were not wearing well worn cowboy boots.
The trooper was obviously armed - wore his pistol on his left hip in a cross-draw holster - and I'll bet that, in the unlikely event of any trouble, he would have had a ton of backup.
The service itself was quietly dignified - a fitting tribute to a great man who was obviously respected and loved.
No comments:
Post a Comment