He was twenty-six years old.
At the funeral, he stood in the front pew at Zion with nobody beside him. Nobody at all. Just Pastor Shay’s hand resting on his shoulder.
In thirty years of funerals, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man look that alone in a room full of people.
Prairie Table was booked to serve lunch for sixty people at eleven-thirty that Saturday.
I knew because Eunice’s daughter-in-law, who puts together the church bulletin, mentioned it to Eunice without thinking twice. The way you’d mention the weather.
Tamra had actually booked that order weeks before, for a different funeral. Old Mr. Riggle’s. But Mr. Riggle’s family asked to push his service back so a son could fly in from out of state. And rather than cancel the Prairie Table order, Tamra just moved it over to Dana Haney’s service, since the dates fell close enough together.
