Greg was the only child of my aunt and uncle, and the apple of their eye. They were married 14 years before he was born. It would be hard to find a son better loved than Greg.
Greg was only 42 years, and his life ended in an ATV accident. He was not horsing around. He came up out of a creek bed and got stuck in some weeds. When he gunned it, it flipped backward on him, crushing him badly.
It has been many years since I attended a Kentucky funeral. As a young girl, my memories were not always pleasant ones. I remember wakes that lasted through the night while the body lay in state in the parlor or front bedroom. Someone would bring up politics or religion, and mom knew it was time to send me upstairs to bed. "Discussions" would begin in the dining room, move to the living room, the front porch, and eventually right out into the front yard.
Women would begin bringing in the food, trying to find room for it all on the groaning table. There would be periods of crying, coupled with periods of laughter and memories.
All of this was called "sittin' with the corpse".
The funeral service was held at the local church, accompanied by a very loud preacher. I mean no disrespect by stating this. But, to a little girl it can be quite overwhelming - even frightening. The church my family attended in Ohio was quite a bit different.
My sisters and I left early in the morning to drive to Olive Hill, Kentucky. We've driven Rt. 23 south many times in our life - mostly for funerals or Decoration Day. We were still in shock, but talking with each other greatly eased some of our grief. We all have good memories of Greg, and of our Aunt Betty and Uncle Dick.