This is entirely off topic, and if deemed to OT, MODS feel free to delete.

I have commented here about my neighbors son, Chris. July third he jumped off of a boat in Lake Granby and never came back up. They found him on Monday July 6th. He was 31. I don't claim to have known him well, but I've been neighbors with his parents for 10 years, we might talk every week or so, as neighbors do. I know in a similar fashion several of his aunts and uncles, and his siblings, whom I know better than I knew Chris. It was just a few weeks prior that Chris had shown my wife some beavers that he shot recently. Chris had a trucking business and regularly parked his big blue dump truck at his parents house, so I'd see it, or see him warming it up or dropping it off regularly. After we found out, my wife and I did what we could do, which wasn't much. We found out that the funeral was scheduled for July 18th, which would have been his birthday. I later learned that they believe Chris has a seizure due to MS that was caused by a car accident in which he was a passenger 10 years earlier.

A few days before his funeral, I received a call about one of my customers. We were supposed to install his carpet on Friday, but on Tuesday he was riding his bicycle and got hit by a dump truck and killed. I had only spent about 15 minutes with the man, but coming on the heels of Chris, it left me uneasy, upset, scared, I'm not sure what.

This is a small community, and it's not uncommon if someone gets sick, or if someone has a fire, or someone gets injured, there would be some sort of community event to raise money. Come give us ten bucks, we'll give you a spaghetti dinner, and we'll help this family pay their medical bills or buy new clothes, or what have you. We've been to a number of these over the years here, but this was to be my first funeral. Where I'm from in Virginia, if there is a funeral, you show up in your "Sunday Best" which for men means a suit and tie. I was told not to worry about what I wore, that plenty of the family would be there in jeans and cowboy boots. I was worried that I might upset the family if I showed up dressed too casually, but I also didn't want to be the one jackass wearing a suit when no one else was, so I split the difference and wore my suit pants and a dress shirt with no tie or jacket.

I drove to the funeral and timed it to get there about 10 minutes early so I could find a seat and be situated when things started. I've been lucky to have only attended a limited number of these, and they have usually been drive up, walk in and sit down with plenty of extra parking and seating. When I drove up to Chris's Funeral, I had to park a couple of blocks from the church, as the lot was full and the street lined with cars. As I walked up, I saw the big blue dump truck I had seen many days for the past 10 years parked in front of the church, along with several other big trucks I didn't recognize. I guess that makes sense, to have his truck here, I thought.

Then I saw the line. The line was out the door, easily 100 feet out the door. The dump truck and the line were both firsts for me at a funeral. I took my place at the back of the line (I went alone, as my wife was working that day and had several prior commitments). I recognized the family in front of me, but I couldn't remember their names. I am bad with names. I saw a police man standing by, and unthinkingly said to the family in front of me that I wasn't sure there was any need for a police presence. The father replied "I'm sure they are just here to pay their respects", and that became a theme for everything else that happened. A few minutes later, and the line behind me was twice as long as when I had gotten there. The man behind me, who I hadn't seen, said hello and said he didn't recognize me in my fancy clothes. I said hello to Gary and his wife, whom I recognized but whose name also eluded me. It turned out that many people did come in blue jeans and cowboy boots. Others were dressed as I was, and still others came dressed in full suit and tie. One man in front of me realized he was still wearing his camouflage hunting cap, and he took it off and hung it on a bird feeder, going in with full hat hair. One of the churches up here has a sign out front that says "Come as you are", but the sign on this Saturday would have read "Come in whatever you are comfortable in". My prior fears about how to dress seemed silly. No one was there judging anyone else, we were all there to pay our respects and give whatever support we could to the family. The church was over capacity, standing room only with people filling all the way to the back of the entry.

It turned out that Chris's uncle, an aunt, and his best friend since he was three were to speak. I know the aunt and uncle, but not the friend. Most everyone there was a local, and most were like Chris, hunters, fishers, horse people. Many of the pictures showed Chris with an Elk he had shot, or a large fish he had caught. One picture was shown on the screen of Chris proudly holding up about a three inch fish he had caught, as if it were a giant. The assembled group laughed. There was lots of country music, some antlers on the altar next to his urn, and a little religion. Mostly it was a group of people trying to make sense of what had happened and to pay their respects.

I didn't tell you all of that except to set up what I am about to tell you. Chris's best friend came up to the podium to speak. Chris's uncle had come up first and been unable to speak, he just couldn't. His friend was in jeans and cowboy boots and and embroidered shirt. A big strong guy who called Chris a "stud" because he was popular with women. He started to struggle and he backed away from the podium. Then he said to himself, "Cowboy Up!", and he returned to the podium. He told us he had a few things he wanted to share about Chris. He told us some funny stories about Chris, and that he and Chris had told each other things that they didn't tell anyone else, and that they older they got, the closer they became. He told us that he was glad that he had hugged Chris and told him he loved him the last time he had seen him before he died. He told us to hug the person next to us, and the woman in front of me turned and we hugged. Then he said that we should turn and hug the person on the other side of us, and the man next to me turned, and clearly a bit uncomfortable, said "I don't know you, but I'm hugging you", and we did. After everyone was done, Chris friend continued that the last time they had spoken they had talked about the importance of not carrying grudges, again the theme of acceptance. He said we don't know how many days we have, so make sure that you tell the people you love that you love them, and that you show it as well with hugs. I'm not doing it justice, but it was simply the most moving eulogy I've ever heard. Everyone was totally absorbed in the moment, and when he finished everyone looked around and realized there was hardly a dry eye in the house. It was a beautiful moment, and everyone there was better from having been a part of it.

Chris's aunt spoke, they played some more country music songs, and then it was over. We were told that the dump truck and the other trucks would be leading the funeral procession, which seemed entirely proper to the moment. As everyone was walking back to their cars, I was passed by two men talking. One said to the other "That's what people here do, they come together and support each other." The air horns from the trucks sounded and I'm sure people from quite a distance heard them.

I don't know if any of this makes sense, I just needed to put it somewhere. This somewhere is a community also, and I appreciate you guys and gals. Next time you are with your friends or family, Cowboy Up, give them a hug and tell them you love them.