funeral
director to play at a graveside service for a homeless
man.
He had no family or friends, so the service was to be at a
pauper's
cemetery in the back country. As I was not familiar
with
the backwoods, I got lost and, being a typical man,
I
didn't stop for directions.
I
finally arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently
gone
and the hearse was nowhere in sight. There were only the
diggers
and crew left and they were eating lunch.
I
felt badly and apologized to the men for being late. I went to the
side
of the grave and looked down and the vault lid was already in
place.
I didn't know what else to do, so I started to play.
The
workers put down their lunches and began to gather around.
I
played out my heart and soul for this man with no family and friends. I played like I've never played before for this homeless man.
And
as I played 'Amazing Grace,' the workers began to weep. They wept, I wept, we all wept together. When I
finished I packed up my bagpipes and
started for my car. Though my head hung low, my heart was full. As I opened the door to my car, I heard one of the workers say,
"I
never seen nothin' like that before and I've been putting in
septic
tanks for twenty years."
Apparently,
I'm still lost . . . . It's a man thing.
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