Jim Ramey, Good Bye

Do you remember the scene in the movie or book, where the coffin is respectfully carried by horse-drawn wagon from the little country church to the little woodland cemetery with the crowd of mourners following behind?  I would read those lines and wonder what it would be like to be part of that procession.  What would you think of while solemnly marching along to the clipping of the horse hooves on the roadway?  What would you speak of?  What would you notice?

 

Today our community lost Mister Jim (as my family called him) - a great man, a brother in Christ, a neighbor, a friend, a lover of his family and his horses, a true pioneer. It was fitting that he would be carried by horse and wagon from his country church to the woodland meadow cemetery to lay beside his beloved wife.

 

We had just listened to the message and the songs.  Our pastor had given the message Jim wanted us to hear, that he was with his best Friend and was waiting for us there.

 

I heard the funeral director quietly urge us to prepare for the procession by entering our vehicles. We left the church and we watched as the coffin was gently placed into a wagon drawn by two horses, driven by two cowboys.  A third old cowboy quoted a poem written just for Jim, as a rider-less horse rubbed his head against the poet’s leg as if he too was seeking comfort.  Then the wagon pulled away, the rider-less horse trailing behind, horses’ hooves clipping against the pavement.  Only the few unable to walk the long mile to the cemetery moved towards vehicles, the rest were drawn in behind, a fitting tribute to this old cowboy.

 

As we walked that country road through the Black Hills that Jim loved, I remembered how I wondered what this would be like.  I thought of Jim, of who he was, how he would hug me with tears in his eyes.  I hated how it hurt him when he saw me, but loved that he cared that much. I would always tell him that it was okay, and he would gently pat my hand.  I remembered his stories, how his eyes twinkled as he and a neighbor, reminisced about college and how they had won a dance competition. I remembered that we buried her in this same cemetery in 2011. As we walked, my husband and I hand in hand, I listened to the birds, the wind, the insects, and the quiet conversation flowing around me. We passed neighbors, hats in hand, silently paying tribute.  The sun slipped in and out, as clouds kept the walk from becoming too warm and a gentle breeze stirred the clover and wildflowers. There was no hurry, we were saying goodbye. 

 

The old cowboy poet greeted us with another poem, then he and the rider-less horse galloped off into the forest and as the sound of the hooves faded away, final words were spoken over the body and we were reminded that Jim was no longer here, but was already with his Friend and Savior, and his beloved wife, waiting for us to join him.  Then we hugged each other, greeted friends and turned to walk back to the church.  The walk back was quicker, and louder, and you could hear laughter as people remembered the funny things.  Somehow we knew that this day would have pleased Jim, and it was the perfect way to say “until we meet again”

 

It was an honor to have known you, Jim. 

Cheryl Eggers, Old Sawmill Homestead, Nemo, SD 7/26/2015