A Trip Home To Say Goodbye

My parents are from southern West Virginia. When I think of "Home" that's the place. I've been kind of homesick to see "Home" for a while. As poor as the economy has always been there, it's one of those places that makes up in beauty what it can't provide in money.

I get to go "Home" for a quick trip this week, but it's not the kind of trip I wanted to make.

My dear Uncle Silas passed away Monday night. He was the man that I could count on to listen, really listen, to anything I had to say. He promised me when I was just a teenager that he would pray for me at 7:30 a.m. every day. As far as I know, except for sickness, he never missed. There were times that his faithfulness to praying for me was what got me through tough times.

I remember the family sings that always started when Uncle Silas pulled out his guitar (and occasionally the banjo). Those sings ran the gamut of Southern Gospel, hymns, and blue grass ballads.

I remember a particularly rough time for me emotionally when Uncle Silas and I would wander up and down the "hollar" in which he lived. We would just walk. No talking. Sometimes he would pull me over to a big rock or a blown down tree to just sit and be quiet together. He fully believed that quietness in the presence of God and in the beauty He had created would bring more healing than all of the words and wisdom he could dispense.

Uncle Silas made it easy to be a part of his family. He assumed that if you were under his roof, you were there to be taken care of, but, also, to help take care of those around you. If you didn't pitch in and help somewhere on your own, then he would make an assignment.

Thursday night, Jessica, Eva, and I will make the long drive down. We will miss the Wake, but we should be able to get some sleep on some body's couch or living room floor before attending the funeral and family dinner on Friday. I wish we could be there for the Wake, but that's just not possible.

The Wake is where we would get to express all of the ways Uncle Silas made our lives different. The Wake is where we would have our family sing to honor him. The Wake is where all of those he touched with his radio broadcast will make a public statement. The Wake is the comfort for the grieving while saying goodbye. Jessica and I will have our own Wake in the Jeep on the way down. I'm bringing the tissues.

I'm sure that one of the songs that will be sung will be "Shouting On The Hills of Glory". I'm sure that's what Uncle Silas is doing now with two healthy legs. I'm, also, sure that he's already greeted Aunt Loretta. I'm glad that there's a Homecoming Day when I will get to greet them both again!