Step 6: Grave Diggers

In the weeks following, dad became increasingly agitated with the idea of his grave not being ready. He finally requested that we look into having it dug and prepared in advance of his death, "the sooner, the damn well better." “That’ll be one less F*&$(*%^ thing for you kids to have to deal with when I cash in.”

To locate a grave digger outfit we looked in the telephone directory but did not find any listings. We explored septic tank digging companies and found one that would do the job for $500. Then my sister contacting several cemeteries in the area. It took several calls because the cemeteries were not too eager to help us "do our own thing" at their loss. Lisa finally got a phne number of a crew in the area and called them. 280 bucks bought us a hole in the ground and loads of expert advice on grave location and orientation as well as tips for making it easier to lower the casket and return the earth on top. These guys were not used to dealing directly with the public and seemed to appreciate the interaction emensely, especially whan they found that we had a sense of humor about the whole gig.

When the digging crew was finished, I brought dad out of the house, across the yard and to the family cemetery for inspection and quality control. He insisted that he be allowed to look over their work, citing “I’ll already be having the worst day of my life. I don’t need to discover my grave is 3 feet too shallow because someone bailed early on the job.”

As we approached the grave, I fell back and allowed him to amble just ahead of me. The first time he paused he was about 10 feet out. "Are you sure you want to look?" I asked dad, placing my hands softly on his shoulders. "Yes son. I want to see it. And don't get any bright ideas and push me in early," he chided as he patted my hand. Then he continued forward again, eventually positioning himself at the foot of his grave. I watched him close his eyes, inhale as deeply as he could, and collect himself. When he finally opened his eyes again, he began by looking at the pile of dirt, then let his eyes sweep left and down, slowly down.

We stood there together, father and son. Each proud of the other.

We covered his grave with plywood and tarps and turned the matter over to the daddy long legs that would keep house until we returned.