While we were at the funeral home, after we chose a lovely mahogany box that I could have predicted blindfolded that Mother would pick out, the aforementioned young man assisting us asked if we wanted a vault for the box and the portion of ashes going to Greer.
“Well, of course we want a vault,” was my mother’s reply. “We’re not going to stick a wooden box directly into the ground.” So, sight unseen, we bought a vault.
That Sunday, we went to the family plot in Greer for the burial. I didn’t want my mother and aunts to have to stand there after the service while George’s ashes were placed in the grave and covered up, so I took them over to my Aunt Peggy’s house while Al, my BFF Jane, and another dear friend, David Condon, stayed at the cemetery.