Where the Water Is 

I sit here in the black of night beside the graves of those who came before me. Unfortunately, they left before me too, or I wouldn’t be here lamenting on days past. Both my brothers and my Dad lay here, beneath the earth.

I remember planning all of these funerals with my Mother. How the funeral directors, glorified salesmen, tried to sell us the most expensive caskets, lead lined with satin pillows, pushing cement and lead lining of the grave on us so the worms and bugs wouldn’t have a meal of our men.