Today we say goodbye to the sweetest of men. Knowing what this day would bring, sleep didn’t come easily last night. I turned memories over and over in my head of my uncle Reuben, in awe all over again at who he was.
In a world full of people who want to go, hustle, impress, and accomplish, he was refreshingly just the opposite. I’ve spent my whole life chasing after contentment, and he seemed to revel in it with ease. Never straying far from home, from the rolling hills of Kentucky, or from his family, he knew a great love of place and people.
The Bible tells us that the humble shall inherit the Earth. Riding around his land, harvesting crops every year, and feeding deer from his front porch, I think he already did just that.
His quiet strength led him beneath the earth to mine coal, to build with his hands, and to clear and till the land in jeans and closed-toe-boots. Yet somehow still, he was also one of gentlest men I’ve ever known.
For a long time, I’ve lived a few states away from our mustached uncle, yet he was a man who loved family so fiercely that we knew he fully loved us. It was just his way and I adored him for it.
Most of our time with him was spent around Mamaw’s table or rocking on her front porch. I was too young to know it, but those were times of great schooling for me. I see now all that I learned about life and family from my aunts and uncles as they talked, told stories, laughed, and cared for their dearest mom and my giant band of cousins. It was a gift I’m still unwrapping.
Go rest, Reuben. You leave a legacy worth chasing after.
You mustn’t wish for another life. You mustn’t want to be somebody else. What you must do is this:
“Rejoice evermore.
Pray without ceasing.
In everything give thanks.”
I am not all the way capable of so much, but those are the right instructions.
-Wendell Berry, Hannah Coulter
Beautiful Rebecca. Took me right back to sitting on my grandmom’s front porch, overlooking their farm, with my aunts, uncles, cousins and sisters. Blessings to your uncle’s family.