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On Viewing my Head Stone

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  • On Viewing my Head Stone

    On Viewing my Head Stone

    Over the East Texas hills we drove
    I did not know how I would feel
    to come face to face with human frailty—
    my own human frailty.
    The smells of death make us
    feel uncomfortable. Many do not
    like to talk about it or prepare for it—
    leaving their final arrangements,
    final expenses for others to take care of.
    When our children heard of what
    we were doing, their discomfort
    stalked us, their disquietude pleaded,
    "Please don't talk about it." They begged us
    to just store our tombstone in the barn
    until it was needed, but we forged on
    paying for our future funerals and
    buying our monument. Now my
    husband was taking me to view
    for the very first time the head stone.
    It was placed beside my in-laws'
    in a country cemetery by an oil well
    near a former Mormon settlement in
    the deep piney woods. As we drove up,
    peace wrapped its arms about me. I did not
    feel uneasy, distressed or unnerved.
    The spirit testified to my heart, to my soul
    that life continues beyond.
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