Early one morning, on one of my walk/jogs about town, I passed by the cemetary and saw an open grave. Me being me, my mind immediately flashed to images of some revenant on the lose in Bolivar, desperately trying to make it’s way back to it’s earthy bed before the sun popped over the Blue Ridge Mountains. Closer inspection showed that the whole was a neat rectangle, ready to receive a vault and casket. Knowing that, though, didn’t prevent the chill going down my spine. I stood and looked and thought that this is our final destination. The open grave is an invitation we all, eventually, accept. One can’t help but ponder mortality when looking into a grave, sunny morning or no.
I approached and saw that the grave was waiting for one Doris M. Stotler. She was 86 years old when she died on July 27th, last Friday. She was interred two days ago, on the morning after I walked by. For a moment I thought about attending the graveside service, but couldn’t get away from work.
According to the obituary on the Melvin T. Strider Colonial Funeral Home website, Doris was born and lived her entire life in Jefferson County, WV. Before retiring she had worked as a pastry chef at the Cliffside Restaurant, which is located about a mile from where I live.
One can make out the side of a funerary vault along the wall of Doris’ grave. Within lies her husband Charles, who died in 2006 after being married to Doris for 55 years. Both Doris and I seem to have had a tough 2006.
So now the grave awaits. Doris and Charles are together again both in body and wherever it is we go when we go.
There’s not a day that I walk that the area in which I lead doesn’t give something to think about…