CigarBox – The Funeral

June was finishing her coffee when Mike walked into the kitchen.

“How are you feeling?”

Without looking at him she said, “How do you think I’m feeling? I’m about to put my father in the ground because some jerk couldn’t get a date in Killeen, Texas!”

Mike wasn’t a coffee drinker, but poured himself a glass of apple juice. “Hey, don’t get mad at me. I didn’t do it.”

“Gonna hit me again, Mike? Seems like that’s the only thing you can do right to a woman. Maybe you need to find yourself a café to shoot up.”

Mike put his glass down and simply left the room. June was spoiling for a fight, and he knew she was upset. She had a right to be. He had pointed out to her the previous evening that she was in Las Vegas looking for her “Real Daddy” just a week before, and the statement had led to a big shouting match, which Claudette had to put down. The whole thing was written off as “nerves” due to the death in the family.

The casket arrived at about eleven-thirty and was wheeled into the church and set in front. It was closed, as the funeral director had requested. A few people were there, and there was some press, both local, and national, since Ray had died at such an event. The family began to arrive soon after that. June’s little sister came in and put a floppy cowboy hat on the casket. It wasn’t Ray’s hat, that one having been lost in Killeen after his death, but it was one of his “spares” that he wore on occasion. The meaning of the hat was not lost on the people coming into the room.

As Claudette, June, and company came up in the limos the people began to all fill up the church. Angie had come down, as had Buddy. All were there in force, all arriving in limos looking like royalty. Then the common people came, and came, and came, until there was standing room only and the crowd spilled out into the street. Cars were parked all the way down to Fat Eddie’s and back up again. High school girls were crying openly, and old men were wiping their eyes, too. Dish Bob looked at the crowd and was amazed. It seemed that the little carpenter had known every one in the little desert town on a first name basis. For all his crusty outward appearance, he’d loaned money to, talked to, or been a friend to just about every one in town.

The music came up a bit and began to play the standards that the funeral home played at times like this. Dish Bob sat in the area behind the casket and waited until a few minutes after ten to rise and walk to the podium.

“Let us pray.” They all rose and bowed their heads. “Lord, look down upon this assembly with mercy today. We are here to commend the soul of our brother, neighbor, and friend, Raymond Clowers, to you. We pray this and all things in Jesus’ name, amen.”

The crowd mumbled, “Amen,” and was seated.
Bob drew himself up to his full height, such that it was, and drew in a deep breath. Then his face was overcome with emotion, and in a loud voice he shouted, “How long oh Lord?” slamming his fist down hard.

The people sat up straight. Bob Continued, “How long do we put up with people such as this man who killed our brother? How long? Ray was a hard working, long suffering, humble member of our town, driven to find work in a distant city to support his family, and came to this! When I look down upon his humble casket I am overwhelmed, indeed I am not worthy to be here. I am not worthy to live, when such a man must die!
Ray walked among us for only forty-two years. Our Lord walked among us for thirty-three. Ray was a carpenter, like our Lord. He was a convicted man, like our Lord. Now I know a lot of you didn’t think that I’d mention Ray’s record today, but let me tell you this; the only man in the Bible that we know for sure went to heaven was a man who was being executed at the same time as Jesus! He cried, ‘Remember me when you come into your kingdom,’ and our Lord told him, ‘Verily, I say to you that this day you will be with me in Paradise!’ ‘Today, you will be with me in Paradise!’ Think about that my friends. And while you are thinking, think about this; Jesus told us that there is no greater love than that love that lays down life for friends! Ray didn’t hesitate. Ray didn’t think, rationalize, analyze, or hold back. Ray did what needed doing. He saw a woman down, and a monster about to kill her. Ray had seen many people killed that day and he cried in his soul, ‘How long oh Lord? Enough!’ And with that Ray saved one life.” Dish Bob held up one finger. “One. How much is one life worth? One lady will have children. One lady will become a grandmother. One lady will see many more days because this man,” he pointed the raised finger at the casket, “this man chose to give his life for her life. And the only thing that all of those people will ever know about Raymond Clowers is that he saved her life. Don’t grieve for Ray. Grieve for yourselves. I’ve spoken over many a casket, and never have I been surer that a man was with our Lord as I am today. Let us pray.”

As they rose and bowed heads Bob led them through the final prayer. Then the whole town began to file past the family and Ray’s simple casket. When they were all finished a group of six men came up and moved the casket to the hearse outside, and the group began the three-mile drive to the cemetery. When all were there and the casket was resting on the stainless steel bars above the grave Dish Bob came over and placed his hand on the casket.

“At a time like this I’m supposed to say that Ray is not here, but that would be wrong. He is here. He lives in each and every one of us. He left us with so much. He doesn’t need a monument, because his monument is resting in a hospital right now, with her family around her. I’m very proud to have known this man.” Bob led them in one last prayer and the people began to leave, each stopping to express sorrow to the family sitting beneath the green tent. Claudette rose and walked to the limo first, without looking back. As she reached the car the funeral director came over to her and told her something. Buddy was right behind her.

“What did he want?”

Claudette was smiling and crying at the same time. “The family of the lady Ray saved called and wouldn’t allow us to pick up the tab for this. They insisted on paying for it.”

June was the last to get out of the chair. Mike came over to her and said, “June, let’s go. We gotta get back to the Bend.”

“You go Mike. I wanna stay here just a little while longer.”

Looking around at the people getting into the cars, pickups and limos Mike leaned over and whispered into her ear, “C’mon baby, you don’t wanna watch him go down.”

She looked up at Mike, “I done seen him go down, Mike. I want to be here with him, alone, for just a little while.”

“Ok. I’ll leave the man with a car.”

“You do that, Mike.” She reached into the rear of the limo and retrieved a small object, and went back to sit beside the grave on one of the chairs as the men began to remove the lift, and shovel dirt into the hole.

All that could be heard was the west Texas wind, and the sound of the dirt as it hit the casket.
As the last car drove away, the form of June sitting beside the grave as it was covered was the last thing they saw. She was quietly singing “When I die I may not go to heaven cause I don’t know if they’d let cowboys in,” and gently stroking the King Edward cigar box resting on her lap.

The Butcher Shop

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