burial bear

I’m a minister. So in the course of events I preside over funerals. Herb had died this spring before the frost was out of the ground. Up here burials only happen when the ground can be worked. So I had a funeral service and Herb was cremated. Now Herb was a crusty old miner who spent his “leisure” time in the bush, certainly not in church. But his son is very active in my congregation. So the family waited until everybody could get together again and today was the day to inter the ashes. It went well. We took our time. The family all held the urn before it was put down the hole and then they all put a handful of earth into the grave. I had given the blessing when a large black bear ambled out to watch the proceedings. I announced that the bear was present. There was laughter. There were shrieks. The daughter-in-law hid behind her little grandchildren. That produced more laughter. The group closed ranks. The bear strolled through the cemetery. People broke rank and began to run to their cars – the worse thing that they could have done. They were instructed to stop and the family then moved together to the waiting cars. They all then went on to a family barbeque. All agreed that wasn’t it just like dad to invite a bear to his burial. And me? I think that the bear made it all the more interesting and certainly memorable.