18: Hallowed ground...

This slice is a follow-up to 16: Around the Table...Again:


We stood outside this morning
on a tiny postage stamp patch of wintry grass
underneath a tiny canopy
made vibrantly blue by the colorless sky
black overcoats, suits, dresses, tights, boots
packed in by family
behind the two rows of felt-covered folding chairs
that lined his golden oak casket

I caught my eyes darting between headstones
close enough to read

WULLIMAN

Harry and Elmira

were just beyond

FLUECKIGER

Robert and Marilyn

To the left there was one darker stone

almost covered by the throng of mourners

I could only make out the last three letters 

yet the tears welled up

and rolled down, down

my fingertips straightened

and pushed my pockets' seams

to stifle the smallish gasp 

because I knew

just like that

where we were standing

MC KEAN

Gorman and Lorraine

the hallowed ground 

where my grandparents

rested

I remembered them, too

Write on,

b