“Two old people had to be escorted out of the church all woozy from heatstroke or something. Everybody was using their funeral programs to fan themselves. The coffin had an enormous spray of roses on top with all the blossoms pointing in different directions. One of them was pointed directly at me. I imagined that every rose was pointed exactly at somebody and that if you knew the language of roses, they would tell you what day you were going to die. Later at the grave site, instead of huddling ...right up next to the grave like they did at my great-aunt’s funeral, people spread out to stand under trees where there was some shade. But my mom and dad and I had to endure the preacher’s ashes-to-ashes routine under the full sun. By the time it was over I was feeling kind of woozy myself. When we got back to Grandpa John’s, I drank three glasses of cold cider one right after another. About thirty people showed up for the after-funeral party, which was mostly on the screen porch and outside on the lawn where they’d set up a canopy in case it rained.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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