BURNS FUNERAL HOME

I knew High Grade Jay for his sporting grounds long before I found this place in the woods. Jay calls it Burns Funeral Home. Whether Jay knew the family or simply took on an abandoned property, I could not say. The porch boards had seen better days, but someone had lit the candles and set the rooms in order.

Inside, stone pillars framed a small office with a proper desk and chairs. The next room held a wooden coffin, flowers, and a portrait between two lamps. Jay had fitted a pipe organ along one wall and left the roof timbers showing overhead. Having seen his work in both the Commonwealth and Appalachia, I recognized the care he takes with a room, even one with such a solemn purpose.

The grounds grew less welcoming beyond the parlor. There were skulls along a railing and a candle burning over another closed coffin. I would have left those grim decorations out, myself. Still, the flowers and the quiet viewing room brought back memories of how we used to stand beside grieving neighbors before the war. I said a prayer for the families who never got that chance, then stepped back onto the porch.