The World Lost

           The world lost a good, good man, this week.

          “And a good woman, too!” you say.

          Yes, and a good woman, too. The passing of the iconic and almost 100-year-old Betty White has certainly been top news all week, but closer to home, and more on a personal level, is the loss of my cousin Joe Soden.

          Joe’s mom and my mom were sisters so we’re first cousins.

          On Monday, Joe’s son Jeremy came home from work and found his dad dead in the pond below their house.

          “I talked to Rosemary,” my oldest sister Patti said. Rosemary is Joe’s oldest sister. “No one was home when Joe came home Sunday night, so we're probably never going to know what happened. Normally, everyone including Joe, always parked on the left side of the house. But indications are the car ended up in the pond from the right side of the house. No one has come up with an idea as to why that would be. Also, Joe had just had a checkup and was fit as a fiddle. He was found in the pond with the car but not in the car. Speculation is he got soaked in the freezing water and hypothermia set in. But no one can figure out how he and the car ended up in the pond in the first place.”

          Another cousin, and a niece to Joe, thinks it might have something to do with the fact that it was a loaner car he was driving while his was being worked on. “These new cars with knobs and levers instead of gear shifts are hard to figure out,” Stacey said.

          The funeral was Friday and I was asked for whatever pictures I might have of Joe. Imagine that. And I did find a handful. But Joe never much liked to have his picture taken. Luckily, he came to a cookout that we held here at our mountain home in 2017. That’s when I snapped this shot of his handsome face. I am humbly proud that this picture was chosen for his service.

          “It captured him beautifully,” I was told by several people.

          And captured beautifully are the words written in memory of Joe by his beautiful niece Stephanie.

Uncle Joe,

Right now, we are overwhelmed by your sudden loss. Our family has been consumed by sudden loss all too recently and you were always first to step in to support everyone’s needs and wishes.

We were fortunate for your uber dedication to the family. We were fortunate for your service to America and continued support of the local veteran community.

You were soft spoken. You sometimes had this peculiar way about arriving to family functions fashionably late and then leave unnoticed, low-key as possible. You were probably just making sure everyone was doing okay. A watchful eye, satisfied that the family was healthy and happy. You were subtle about showing your love yet that is evident in the dedication and unselfish deeds I’ve seen in your kids and grandkids. You affectionately called me ‘Sis.’

You will be laid to rest next to your daughter, Jess, and I cannot begin to express how tragic that is and how I can’t comprehend the sinking feeling of that thought. My cousin more positively noted you two are now reunited and that is what we take solace in.

Rest in peace Uncle Joe.

          Our world is such a mess right now, isn’t it. With COVID and airports canceling flights all over the place. Some family members couldn’t be here and some couldn’t get here. I asked for permission to take pictures from the matriarch of the family. Rosemary graciously allowed it. It’s a sad substitution for being here in person but in these times we do what we must.

I walked right past this guy without so much as a how-do-you-do and after I sat down, realized he was probably Joe’s son, Jeremy. I don’t know that I’ve ever met him so I went back and introduced myself as ‘Aunt Dorothy’s daughter’.

Joe was a member of the American Legion. Just before the transfer service up to the church for burial mass and interment, they filed past and paid their respects. After the men the Women’s Auxiliary paid their respects. There were so many people that it took fifteen minutes for the line to dwindle down and taper off.

Mike was waiting on a phone call — oh what a mess! But Mike needed to answer his phone should it ring. We sat in the wayback so he could dash out the door. As a result, when it came time for everyone to pay one last respect, Dean started in the back and we were first.

We paused for a moment in front of Joe’s casket and bid him Godspeed and Rest in Peace.

We didn’t wait for the procession up to the church, going on ahead instead.

It was a dreary day. Not raining but overcast.

Our first stop, while we waited, was the restroom. Just outside the unisex restroom, in a corner, is where they take donations for the food pantry.

Yeah. Except, accept. I get confused with words sometimes, too. I hope this makes you smile like it did me.

St. Basil’s, all decked out for Christmas, was beautiful. Again, we sat in the back. That was a hindrance when it came to taking pictures, but I didn’t want to abandon Mike.

I am not Catholic anymore.

I don’t want to get into a theological debate on religion.

I did not participate in their religious service, instead just standing or sitting respectfully.

Someone was giving a eulogy when the clouds parted and bright rays of sun cascaded into the church. It made me gasp.

We followed the procession to the gravesite.

The top of Joe’s vault was just beautiful.

Joe was buried with full military honors.

Including a gun salute. I caught the spent cartridges flying through the air.

Taps.

Folding and presenting the flag to Jeremy.

Afterward, there was a get-together at the American Legion in Joe’s hometown of Mildred.

“We’ll take good care of Joe from here on out. You can go on to the American Legion and have a bite to eat if you’d like,” Father announced.

We turned to go but I could hear Patti in my head. “Did you visit Mom, Dad, and brother Mike while you were there?”

“Let’s go see Momma before we leave,” I told Mike and we walked down a few yards to where they rested.

“Oh no. What’s all over it?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Mike said.

I reached down to sweep it away but it didn’t budge. “Peggy, you gotta clean that up,” Patti said in my head. I turned to Mike. “Patti’s gonna make me clean it up.”

“You wouldn’t mind doing that, would you?” Mike asked.

“No.” Besides, I’m the only one here to clean it up. “The stone’s crooked, too,” I saw.

“It looks like they might’ve hit it with a mower,” Mike thought.

Dean Homer is in charge of the graveyard and he was still at Joe’s site when we got back down there.

“Momma’s crooked,” I told him.

“I’ll send someone up to straighten it up,” he said. He does take pride in the maintenance of the graveyard.

“And there’s stuff growing all over it.” I knew that was beyond their scope of responsibilities.

“On the slant?” he asked.

I didn’t know what he was asking but Mike did and answered for me. “Yeah.”

“We’ll come up in a day or two and clean it off,” I told him.

“They make this stuff to clean it with, I’ll have (I don’t remember what the guy’s name was) get with you on that,” Dean said.

We started to walk away when the other guy caught up with me and showed me a picture of it on his phone. “You can get it just about anywhere,” he said.

“Amazon?” I asked and grinned.

“Probably,” he answered.

“You can get anything on Amazon,” Mike said.

Mike and I looked for Rosemary and her handsome husband Carmen as we were leaving but didn’t see them anywhere. Then, leaving the graveyard, I see they’d gone to visit their family, too.

At the reception, I wasn’t especially hungry. I sent Mike on through the line and went to talk to my cousin Lorraine’s handsome husband Mark. I saw him sitting at a nearby table talking with young Vince.

I pulled up a chair and sat beside him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I don’t know,” Mark replied. “Is it gonna make my wife mad?”

He’s so funny.

“No. You’re Jewish, right?”

“Right…” he left it hanging.

“I was wondering how you felt about attending a Catholic service. Does it in any way violate your theology?”

I think he rolled his eyes at me. “No! It doesn’t! I can respect other religions. The only time I ever get upset is when someone tries to convert me.”

About this time Lorraine shows up and Mark joins her at the end of the line.

I wandered back to the table where Mike was eating a roast beef sandwich.

“Look at this toothpick,” he says and hands it to me.

          “Uh-huh,” I say.

A lady, sitting alone at the next table, strikes up a conversation with me. “I’ve been waiting for Kay but she and Jeremy aren’t here yet.”

          We stood there and talked. During the course of our conversation, Sharon’s eye and nose started to run and she seemed oblivious to it. At first, I did what we all do, I turned away. But there is some base part of me that refuses to let anyone walk around that way and be embarrassed when they think of all the people who must’ve seen it — and not said anything. You don’t do them any kindness when you do that.

          “I think you need a tissue,” I said and touched my face.

          “Oh! Excuse me!” Sharon dashed for a napkin. When she came back, she told me her story. “I was in a car accident and the car landed on my face. They used my ribs to rebuild my face here and here.” She touched her cheek and brow bone. “I can’t feel anything on that side of my face.”

          I’d been standing with my back to Mike, ignoring him. It seemed like a good segue to introduce her. “Mike, did you hear her story?”

          “No, I didn’t.”

          “Sharon, this is my husband, Mike. Tell him what you told me.” And I stepped back a half step. She launched into her story, ending with, “Would you mind if I sit with you?”

Of course, we didn’t mind.

“I wonder where Kay and Jeremy are?” Sharon asked again.

          “Maybe they stayed to watch them close up the grave,” I guess.

          “How old do you think Jeremy is?” Mike wondered.

          “I remember when Joe and Dena got married. She was pregnant with Jeremy at the time and I was just a girl.” At that time, getting married was the honorable thing to do.

          “In his forties?”

          I was doing the math in head, subtracting forty from my age and that would’ve made me in my twenties somewhere. He had to be older than that. Despite those hard facts, I thought I must be wrong. He certainly didn’t look that old.

          The sandwiches were small and Mike got a second one, again pointing out the toothpick to me. Since he was so fascinated by it, I thought I’d show it to you.

          Rosemary made her way past and we bushwhacked her. “How old is Jeremy?”

          She thought for a moment. “He’s gotta be fifty.” Then Rosemary left for the dessert table. When she came back through, she was holding a plate with cake on it and said, “For Carmen.” She grinned a mischievous grin.

          “Yeah!” Mike said. “We know who it’s really for!”

Jeremy and Kay finally arrive. They made their way around the room, accepting condolences. When he got to us, I gave him a hug and once again expressed my sorrow. As we visited with him, we asked. “How old are you?”

“I’ll be fifty-one in June,” Jeremy answered.

“You look so young!”

“I get that from my mom.”

After a polite amount of time, Jeremy drifted away.

          We were sitting near a door that led to the front of the building, not the exit door that led to the parking area. A group of people went out that door and me being me, wondered what they were up to. I went to the window and saw they’d had the flags at half-mast for Joe and now were putting them back up.

          They turned to come back in and Stacy, a friend of Joe’s, pointed at the door. I guess it locks automatically and she needed someone from the inside to open it.

          I did, then stood back and snapped pictures as they came through the door. This is Jeremy with Stacy’s daughter.

          Stacy appeared and grabbed my hand. “Come here. I have to show you something. Get a tissue ‘cause you’re gonna cry.”

          Needless to say, my curiosity was piqued.

          In a showcase, a picture of Joe kneeling at a memorial.

          “Isn’t that a great picture?” Stacy asked.

          “It really is,” and I wondered why she hadn’t submitted it for the slideshow at the funeral home.

          “They had a memorial out front here for Joanie Yates, a member of the Ladies' Auxiliary, when she died,” Stacy said.

          We’d left Bondi home, as you may well expect. And it was the first time we’d left her to have run of the house while we’d be gone for longer than half an hour.

           It was time for us to be going.

          Before we left, I got a picture of these two beauties. Lorraine on the left, Rosemary on the right. The last two of the Rexford Gordon and Marie Isabell Smith Soden clan.

          “The bookends,” Lorraine said. She was the youngest, Rosemary the oldest. All five middle brothers now gone and that’s so incredibly sad.

          Joe was a well-respected and much-loved member of the community.

          I took a couple of pictures on the way home.

           Bondi did great. No messes.

          The next morning, Mike says. “You wanna go clean your mom’s headstone?”

          The procrastinator in me is alive and well. “No. Let’s do it next week.”

          “It’s gonna be colder next week,” Mike pointed out.

          That’s all I need is to be freezing cold and up to my elbows in soapy water. “Fine. We’ll go today.”

          I poured boiling water in my thermos and took a gallon of cold water. A bucket, soap, and a brush.

          I scrubbed for a while, then Mike took over.

We found out two things. One, we needed a stiffer brush, and two, we needed more water — and a towel to dry on. I forgot that. We’ll go back another time and give brother Mike a bath too.

“No slanted headstone for us,” I told Mike.

“There won’t be anyone here to clean it,” he replied.

We stopped by to visit Joe and his beautiful daughter Jess, tucked in together side-by-side.

The world lost a tender-hearted, kind, and gentle soul the day Joe died.

Let’s call this one done.