Attending a Funeral

I’ll be attending a funeral on Tuesday. My Dad’s youngest sister passed away last week. Most of my interactions with Emma were during my childhood, our lives having gone in different directions since the early 60’s. But she made a big impression on me back then that I have never forgotten.

I was four or five years old. My Dad was attending the University of Richmond full time during the day while working at Reynolds Metals on the graveyard shift. Every morning I would sit in the backseat of my Dad’s Plymouth with a guy named Jan LaPierre who was also a student at UofR, as we drove to Emma’s house, where Dad would drop me off to spend the day with Aunt Emma and my cousin Danny. As a bonus, my grandparents lived in a trailer in the back yard of Emma’s house. This went on for many months and years until I became old enough to attend school. Here’s what I remember from the experience.

For a five year old boy, Aunt Emma was the closest thing to a movie star that I knew. First of all, she was beautiful. Secondly, she was an actual star, the lead singer of the Country Cavaliers, a semi-famous country band in Richmond in the late 50’s and early 60’s. (Think Patsy Cline, only prettier). But the thing I remember most about Emma was her big smile and how incredibly kind she was. Every morning I was greeted with a warm hug and a kiss on the top of my head. Then after she had made sure that Danny and I had eaten a decent breakfast, the two of us were let loose to terrorize the neighborhood unsupervised with the only instructions being, “Make sure you are both back here for lunch!” Ahh yes, the early 60’s—when the most popular parenting style was benign neglect. Danny and I had great fun outside all day. Lunch was always delicious. Since Danny was an only child I remember he always had super cool toys and playing at his house was like an Adventureland. Then late in the afternoon, right before Dad would pull into the driveway to pick me up, Danny and I would gather around my grandmother’s kitchen table for our afternoon snack—peanut butter graham crackers and cold milk.

But it was Aunt Emma who always made us feel safe. I could always sense, even as a five year old that she loved me. Nothing bad would happen to me at Aunt Emma’s. She wouldn’t allow it.

So, I will attend the funeral today. I will reunite briefly with Danny and many of my other cousins from the Dunnevant side of the family. I will not be sad. There is no reason for sadness. Emma was a lovely woman, someone worth celebrating.