Funerals

Andrea Mover wassen a beloved daughter, charmed sister, gracious wife, doting mother; a real nice lady all around. ‘Cause she helped the less fortunate poor fokes and rich fokes and all fokes in between had come out by the droves to bid the sweet, upstanding lady her goodbyes. Next to the podium was a Holy Bible and a picture of the departed Andrea Mover. It was a nice picture of her smilin and the like, lookin for all the world as if she haven't a care. Roses and lilies were piled below the portrait. Their’n petals had wilted in the summer humidity. Mourners draped in black occupied the entire church's sanctuary. The pews were fuller ‘an a tick on a dog. The Preacher gave a speech. It was a long one, a eulogy of tears and heartache. Bobbi observed from the shadows cast by the church's arching doorway. He loved funerals. Warnt no event more satisfying than hearing the weeps of family and friends left behind.

Preacher Jim, a lean man with a narrow chin and a fragile structure, closed the speeches with a prayer. Bobbi had always liked Preacher Jim. He was a delicate-lookin guy, but he was a nice enough fellow who gave Bobbi work and didn't never mind when Bobbi arrived early. He let Bobbi sleep at the church some nights if’n a service was real early the next morning, in his office no less. Yessir, Preacher Jim was a good man, and Bobbi was happy he was leadin the service today. He gave Preacher Jim a little wave so he'd know he was here. Preacher Jim nodded his hello before consolin an old coot with some words from Scripture. Bobbi drank the old lady's sorrow in like a cool Co-Cola on a hot summer's day.

Everyone meandered outside. Bobbi followed the masses, though he was careful not to get too close. He didn't want nobody touchin him and sad people were sometimes clingy. He didn't hold it against them; he just didn't want nobody touchin him.

They stopped away from the hole with a hushed reverence. Bobbi rubbed his gritty hands and moved to the side. Most people never look to the side. They only look in front of 'em and never see what's comin on their’n lefts and rights. Bobbi had buried a lotta guys who died that way—only lookin ahead, never seein the truck of patch of ice on their’n sides. But people don't never look on their’n sides, so Bobbi went there and made sure not to move sos’n not to attract attention. The sun was hot and Bobbi was glad he was wearin only a thin T-shirt. The mourners glared at the sky, unhappy, but Bobbi thought that was rude. Warnt the sun's fault they was wearing so many layers. Bobbi never understood the reasonin behind wearing black at a funeral, but he supposed it must've been a real important rule. Bobbi liked to follow rules, so he wore a black T-shirt. But it was thin, not the heavy jackets and whatchacallits the lady folk were all wearin, so he wasn't awfully uncomfortable.

Eventually Preacher Jim came on out to the graveyard and everyone sat on down. Every seat filled up ‘cept one in the front of the row. Bobbi stayed on the side causin he didn't want nobody seein him in the forward, so he didn't move. Preacher Jim said a few more words about Andrea Mover. Bobbi thought he would have liked Andrea Mover. She sounded like a real swell lady. Nobody said nothin bad 'bout Andrea Mover, not one small thing. She was a good person who did good things and Bobbi was sorry he never met her. He thought he would have liked her.

Bobbi loved funerals. He had since he was seven years old. His Pa had his funeral that year and Bobbi had loved how nice everyone had been. They'd shaken his hands and called him "little man" and said theys was sorry 'bout his Pa and his Pa was a good man who did good things. His Pa's drinkin buddy had cried and told Bobbi that his Pa had never meant no harm and that he was a good man deep in ‘is heart. His Pa's old boss who had fired him cause he missed work so much had ruffled Bobbi's hair and told him his Pa had been troubled but was really a good man who did good things and weren't no fault of Bobbi's that his Pa was a troubled man. Nobody had said not one mean thing 'bout his Pa. Nothin 'bout his drinkin or bein a dead beat or causin a rucus late at night. No sirree they was as nice as nice could be. Peoples is always nice at funerals.

The sun was higher when the lean Preacher Jim finished his group prayer. More people cried an’ the old coot in the first row kept shakin her head and sayin what a nice lady Andrea Mover was and how she didn't deserve this, no, not one bit. A burly guy with lotsa muscles and another guy with lotsa fat lowered the nice polished coffin in the ground. People began takin they leaves and Bobbi stayed on the side cause nobody ever looks to their’n rights and lefts and he didn't want no sad person tryna hug him, no sir. The old coot was yammerin to Preacher Jim 'bout forgivin sins. Bobbi stayed on the side and watched the people leave. They kept a sighin and a shakin and a cryin and they all looked mighty put-out. Andrea Mover was a good person and did good things and didn't deserve this not one bit.

Slowly everyone left. Bobbi was disappointed to see them go. Everyone said what a nice person Andrea Mover was. He thought he woulda liked Andrea Mover and was sad he'd never met her.

Lean Preacher Jim gestured to the grave and told him he had some work back at the chapel and that Bobbi could sleep in his office tonight on the account of the funeral early tomorrow mornin. Bobbi nodded and got to work. The rough wood of his shovel abraded Bobbi's calloused hands but he didn't pay it no mind. No sir, he shoveled the dirt on top of Andrea Mover's coffin with care and thought 'bout what he heard. He thought he woulda liked Andrea Mover and was sad he'd never met her.