Barry

I helped Barry with chores. More than that, we were friends. Barry died last September. He had no family. I went to his Jewish burial, a cold and gray day. At one point, I was given a gentle push toward the open grave and handed a shovel. I looked down and saw the coffin. As is the custom, I took my turn and shoveled earth into the grave. I can recollect no experience quite like that. I handed the shovel to another mourner and turned from the grave. I thought I’d broken a sweat but it was only a tear.