Frances: “Open casket?”
“Girls, I’ll handle it.”
Ray told the attendant, “Please give me a moment, then close the casket.” Dad, dressed in dark suit and sober tie, serene, still presented as knowing all, certainly more than he. After a final glance, Ray gently touched his father’s quiet chest.
Months later, Ray noticed that he no longer peered over the miles to dad’s hometown as he mulled knotty issues, made difficult decisions. His final glance and gentle touch had been enough. The line was broken.