Paul and Grace Henderson were married over fifty years and you almost never saw them apart. They had lived a self-sufficient life, high on a mountain in the same house Grace had been born in. They were good friends to everyone and mentors to many of us newcomers.
When Grace died last February. I wrote about her burying up on Crooked Ridge . Today, just a few days short of a full year later, I followed a line of car and trucks, winding up the steep road to Crooked Ridge, going to say goodbye as Paul was laid to rest beside his Gracie.
When Grace died last February. I wrote about her burying up on Crooked Ridge . Today, just a few days short of a full year later, I followed a line of car and trucks, winding up the steep road to Crooked Ridge, going to say goodbye as Paul was laid to rest beside his Gracie.
Just like last year, the wind gusted and the trees sighed and dead leaves rattled around the gravestones. The same friends and neighbors helped fill the grave and set the foot stone.
Ever since Grace went, Paul 'hasn't done no good,' as they say around here. He was already slipping into Alzheimer's and the loss of his partner of so many years left him confused and unhappy. During the first days after her death, he kept wanting to go look for her -- back at the old home place.
It's sad to see another of the great old-timers go but I'd like to believe that he's found Grace.
No comments:
Post a Comment