Dona Lurdes was laid to rest today.

After church, we followed her to the cemetery where the graveside service was brief due to the weather conditions.

The wind whipped the green tent above the coffin. It whipped the mourners who bent against it trying to keep from being pushed off their feet. I hated leaving her there, behind for the "caretakers" to insert her into the mausoleum. It seemed so unfinished!

Funerals are so "clean" It's a bad choice of words, I realize.....but it's almost like a staged play!

Despite the criticism that I received for my father's services, I would not change a thing. It was personal and intimate.

The Portuguese community is dwindling. Very few of the old timers remain. We are left to a few dozen in this city. The new generation, our children, do not speak the language. I feel a sense of loss of more than the old timers.

I must think of a way to tie the children and future generations to a little bit of the past. To one day be able to know at least where we came from. Time to start writing down part of what is fast becoming history.