RIP Overlooking Mt. Tam

I never met this man, but I'll never forget helping bury him.

We stood there
on a quiet hill
overlooking Mt. Tam
burying a man
I'd never met.

I was there
to pay respects to him 
and honor his life,
to support his daughter,
his son-in-law, and grandsons,
who I've known for 25 years,
and his wife,
who I'd never met.

RIP overlooking Mt. Tamalpais, Marin County, CA.

It was a sunny, warm day,
tombstones surrounded 
by high grass, wildflowers,
live oak and twisted manzanita trees.

The rabbi's comforting words
conveyed the loving parts of Psalms,
about Him letting us rest in green meadows
and leading us beside peaceful streams.

She led us through the tradition
of shoveling three shovelsful of dirt
onto the man's simple pine casket,
giving each of us an active hand
in his final resting place. 

Each of our last shovelsful 
were pitched into the grave
from the backside of the shovel,
symbolizing how the man's death
had turned the world upside down 
for him, his family, and friends.

I've buried my parents
and a grandparent,
my father-in-law
and a couple of dear friends,
but I didn't have such a direct hand
in burying any of them.

I never met this man,
but I'll never forget
helping bury him.