Too many funerals, too many good men gone.
I went to the funeral today of Candler Lasseter (and found that his middle name was Percy!). He died two weeks ago, on the day after the anniversary of my mom's death. She died on January 22, and Candler died on the 23rd. He'd had some health issues in recent months, and had been struggling with problems. Plus he was nearly ninety-four. So it was not unexpected. But that does not make it any easier for those close to him to think of how life will be with him gone, feeling a hole in their hearts in the space he occupied for so many years.
He and wife Joyce had been married for sixty five years - that's something worth mentioning. Often when I was with them, usually sharing a meal together with extended family, one or the other would comment on how long they had been together. That's pretty amazing. Makes me think about all those Paul Harvey newscasts when he would talk about duos that had been 'couples' for an unbelievable number of years. How they could stay together, without committing homicide is baffling. I can't imagine being able to tolerate little personality quirks and idiosyncrasies for fifty plus years. I'd definitely be in the lockup.
And I know that no couple lives continually in a bed of roses, there are times of stress and distress. Days of anxiety, doubt and possibly silence. But they obviously had a very good life, many happy times, and enjoyed the company of that person they said 'I do' to many years ago. It was a sweet day, with fond remembrances by family and friends. People who knew and loved him and will miss the honorable, true southern 'gentleman' he was.
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