Reinterment

I traveled to my hometown of Eagar, Arizona this last weekend. Whenever somebody asks me how many brothers and sisters I have, sometimes I say 9, sometime I say 10. The ambiguity arises, as you know, from an event that happened 47 years ago, in August, 1962, which was the death of my brother, David, from complications relating to congenital birth defects (he was a thalidomide baby). David was child number 5, and lived about 13 months. He had one Christmas, spent, as I recall, in the Primary Children's Hospital in Salt Lake City. He was born in Montpelier, Idaho and was buried the next summer in a small cemetery in the same county, in Dingle.

My parents are getting old, and Mom's health is failing her. They have always said they wanted to be buried in Dingle next to David. Dingle was my Dad's last home as a teenager and his parents lived there for many years after that. My Dad made a living there, off an on for many years as he was finishing all of his schooling, before we sold the homestead and moved to Arizona for good in 1971. Mom and Dad have now lived in Eagar for 38 years, and suddenly last spring they announced that they wanted to be buried in Eagar, next to David.

This sudden change of plans presented a logistical issue, of course. As it turns out, graves have been moved before, there is an established procedure. It requires the supervision of a mortuary on both ends, and a permit to carry the casket. All business, legal and logistical plans having been put in place, David was disinterred in Dingle, placed in a new casket and arrived in Eagar on Friday, September 18. Some of the family went to Dingle to take care of that end, but by Friday night all 11 siblings had traveled from every corner of the United States and were spread out in various Eagar locations.

Saturday was rainy. The mortuary put up a tent by the new graveside and we had a simple ceremony starting at 11:00, starting with a prayer. Dad gave some interesting remarks, the most important being that he felt spiritual confirmation that David belonged in Eagar. I then gave a family prayer. We discovered at the last minute that a formal grave dedication is like a baptism, it requires a member of the bishopric to be present, and none were available. But family prayers are OK.

In true Thurber style, we all forgot our cameras. Here are a few cell phone pictures:

This is the new casket. It is only about 3 feet long, maybe less.

The mortuary kindly provided a shelter. It wasn't big enough for all of us.

Mom and Dad were required to sit in the rain for this picture.

Here we are covering the grave after the ceremony.

David's grave now looks just the same as it always has, only he is now two states away, in his final resting place, a one-minute walk from Mom and Dad's front door. They will join him sometime in the next twenty years, where together their mortal bodies will await the resurrection morning. In the meantime, it is safe to say we are all from Eagar, Arizona.

That afternoon most of the Thurbers went for a run high up in the mountains at 9,000 feet. Then we had a dinner in a lodge up there. We slept one more night at altitude, went to church the next morning, then dispersed to our respective homes.