I'm a little drained right now. I've just returned from the funeral of my great-uncle Clare "Sonny" Ashton. In my family, great aunts and uncles, second cousins, we all keep up with each other. I traveled frequently with my grandparents to Sonny and Sue's (my grandpa's youngest sister) small hold black Angus farm and spent the day fishing, eating steak, and sitting on the back deck chatting. Hummingbirds flocked to his feeders by the 20's and Eastern bluebirds perched in the trees singing songs. It was a lovely, peaceful place.
He had a handlebar mustache. How wonderful is that?
Sonny was a great big man with an even bigger heart. He had a belly laugh that made you smile and was rotten to the core. His smile was bright, his compassion filled a room. He gave great hugs - you'd get lost in uncle Sonny. He didn't like to fish, but he would take me on hayrides around his property to dry creek beds to look for arrow heads and fossils and just to give me a thrill when we hit a big bump.
Sonny was a firefighter for 25 years, eventually becoming fire chief of Upper Arlington here in Ohio. He served as a police officer for another 20, and then "retired" to his small hold farm in Vinton County, OH. He was a lifelong Shriner and was passionate about helping the Shriner children.
The funeral was nice. It was a blur. The pastor said something about how time does not heal all wounds because there will always be something to remind us of those that we love who have left us. Which opened the floodgates about my grandparents. I've said it before, but I Miss my grandparents. Very, very much.
The motorcade to the cemetery was amazing. We passed two fire stations (including Sonny's old station), and all of the fire trucks and ambulances were pulled out with lights and sirens on, fireman standing at a salute. Throughout the drive, firetrucks drove by with the firemen in full salute on the trucks. Police officers who weren't part of the motorcade knew about the funeral, set themselves up at intersections, blocked the traffic, and stood at salute. Upon entering the cemetery, a firetruck had it's ladder extended over the motorcade with an American flag hanging down. Firemen stood in a straight line in full dress uniform at salute. I cried the whole time. All this for my uncle Sonny. People are good.
A bag piper played "Going Home" as the casket went to the grave site. The mood was solemn, but not entirely sad. Taps was played by the Navy contingent. The flag was presented to aunt Sue, who I noticed for the first time that day looked a little lost. They'd known each other since they were teenagers.
Sonny had lived a full life, a wonderful life. He was my friend, a part of life with my grandparents. I will miss him and most likely cry more tears. But I will be joyful because my Great uncle, the man of the fullest heart and generous spirit, has finally gone home.
All photos found via Google Photos (except for Sonny, of course)
