Friday

Got up and readied myself for Pat’s funeral, it had rained all night the night before and I got to realize that I need to waterproof the entrance flap on the truck tent.
I rode with Eddie with Darryl driving. Micaela rode in the back seat with me. The funeral was held in the old sanctuary and was overcrowded. I understand that they utilized the “overflow” room beside the church, which was at one time the community hall.
After the services, the hearse took Pat’s coffin across the street to the cemetery, with a procession of grievers following, where the pallbearers carried it to the grave.
After a short cemetery committal service, may have been short because of the total mugginess from the high humidity from the rain that morning, we all retired over to the new community hall for a luncheon.

After the luncheon, the family gather at Herman Sons Steak House were Pat’s sister and brother-in-law, the Krause, treated us. I had the two enchilada with weren’t bad but still not as good as Sammie’s, but still being miffed over the Sammie’s deception from April, I see that this place will be a good substitute for when I return. A curious side note about Herman Sons, in the men bathroom is one of them old tin trough urinals and from way back when, and they even had ice in it to keep the smell down, I remember such from when I was a very young lad. They always had to keep an eye on me to keep me from getting the ice. ewww.

That evening Robert, Erica, and I went to James’ viewing. It was in San Antonio at Sunset Northwest Funeral Home. While there, I ran into Guy Penny. He recognized me and if he had not spoken then I wouldn’t have recognize him. Moreover, sadly to say, it was his voice that kept reminding me that I was speaking to Guy. Age is creeping up on all of us.

After we left there, I asked Robert if he was willing to stop by and visit with Nell for a moment or two. So we went there and got some picture made of us and Nell together and she enjoyed the company, we kept it short like she likes it now.

On the way back to Dunlay, Robert and I talked about various things but when we came down Hwy 90, I got a melancholy feeling. I realize that it won’t be two many more times that I’ll travel down that length of highway to be with family. I really don’t go to Devine now, and going pass the old farm is a sad painful loss. And soon, Dunlay will be the same way.