At a mountaintop burial the whole world cried. We carried grandma to her final resting place, each step sinking our Sunday-best shoes deeper in the mud. The cold downpour disguised our tears and drenched our dark suits. Little by little we approached the shelter of a blue tent, a promised reprieve from the miserable weather, but not from the misery we felt in our hearts.
Of the grandchildren, I am by far the oldest, the shortest, and the most heavyset. My six cousins did their best, bless them, nevertheless their young muscles assigned me the lion’s share of the load. When we reached the tent, we set the casket in its place and stood near the edge of the temporary shelter. ------------------------------ This was the orginal version, of course I am changing the deceased grandmother to grandfather. Some told me that if they read the first line, they would close the 'book', and return it to the shelf. Too melodramatic, evidently. Of course, I'm floating the second version here too. One good response so far.