does death become her?

i did an inspection down in stratford today. when coming back to the office, i hit traffic on 91n just after the junction with 95n. the tractor-trailer truck in front of me locked up on his brakes and almost rear-ended the tractor-trailer in front of him. traffic started merging into the far right lane. we had come upon an accident – tractor-trailer parked in the second to the right of four lanes and to the left of him was a white jetta that was smashed to pieces. there was a man in plain clothes directing traffic, diverting us around the accident. he was almost frantic looking, with a bit of ration still left in his eyes. he had a mop of dark brown/black hair, small wire frame glasses, pale skin – he was late 30’s early 40’s with a navy blue waffle shirt and jeans.

as my car slowly came along side the parked tractor-trailer, i looked to the left. there kneeling was a middle aged black man – a woman lay on the ground in front of him and he was covering her body and face with a blanket. but her body lay in such a way that her right hand was not covered. it was still, pale. she was on her back so her hand lay as if she were reaching up.

death isn’t something i’ve had to confront very often. i have been blessed in that respect. and the few funerals i have gone to were either closed casket or memorial services. my pop pop’s funeral was open casket – but i was like 4 or 5 when he passed, so i don’t really remember it. but this, today, i think will take a long time to forget.