In the Mourning is where the Boy and I have been dwelling for a while now. On the last day of 2025, we laid to rest two of our best friends; one two-legged and one four-legged. Of course, both were really family. To say it was a hard day would be an understatement, but it was also, in many ways, a beautiful day. I’ve heard it said and I’ve said it many times myself, that grief is not just the other side of love but the same thing. The more deeply we love, the more deeply we grieve. That being the case, we have loved them both mighty hard.
As many of you know, our dearest James “Moose” Morgan walked on the day after Christmas. Four days later, our dearest Shep, the best good boy dog ever, went to catch up with him. On December 31st, 2025, both of them were returned to the earth from which they came, their graves watered with tears and memory. It is hard to believe that we must go on without them, and neither the Boy nor I is really sure how to go about that yet. We are, however, beginning to see that we will never truly be without them.
In a strange turn of events, Moose’s mother asked the Boy and me to officiate his funeral. She and the rest of the family didn’t want a preacher up there who didn’t know Moose at all and wouldn’t really know what to say about him. She knew Moose had spent more time with us over that last decade than he had with many, and she knew how much we all loved and valued one another. We were more than a little intimidated by the prospect, but knew in our hearts that Moose would want it that way as well.
The funeral was simple in its arrangement but powerful in its delivery. As music was something that had been a part of Moose’s life from the time he played the slide trombone in the high school band to the decade that he played harmonica with our little band, we knew there had to be music. The rest of it we mostly played by ear.
We were all gratified to see how many people came for the services. There was not an empty seat in the place. The Boy and I didn’t know half of them, nor they, us. There were folks there from all walks of life, for Moose knew no social boundaries when it came to making friends. When he delivered the paper for us, he made many friends along the route, and he would want them all to know how much he valued their friendship. There were musicians there, and college professors, insurance salesmen and craftsmen, poor people, and folks who have everything they need and a bit more.
Jerry opened the services by reading his thoughts on Moose’s passing and what he means to so many. I followed with a poem, and then we asked those present if anyone else would like to say anything. No one stirred. Mitch Barrett then came forward and sang a couple of songs. Mitch and Moose go way back, as they say, having been friends and musical collaborators since the 80s. The Boy and I then sang a few songs, one of which was “Let it Be.” We were certain most of the people in attendance knew the song, so we invited them to join us. What happened then was a beautiful thing. Practically every voice in the place was lifted in what felt more like a prayer than any benediction I’ve every heard. All of these people, many of whom had never met one another, came together in song. The voices were strong and beautiful, filling the place completely with the unison of love. It felt like we were all joined together and that we suddenly all knew one another well. It was a catharsis and a healing thing. We were all changed by it.
Following the songs, we asked again if anyone had anything they would like to say or a story to tell. This time, folks came forward and shared their stories of Moose and the importance of his life to theirs. There were touching stories and funny stories and, once more, the place was filled with voices and laughter. Moose touched so many lives in a positive way. Where we were once mourning his absence, we all now knew that he was right there with us, for it was Moose who put that laughter there. It was Moose who created those stories and reflections in the lives of others, and it was Moose who so many times reminded us how to love one another without judgment. That was what he did throughout his life, and that was what he did that day. He moved through us, as he always has and always will. He was buried in the family plot. The view from there is breathtaking, a good place to lay him to rest among the hills he so loved.
Both heartsore and heartened and weary with the bearing of grief and love, the Boy and I returned home just at the edge of dark to dig a grave and lay our faithful Shep to rest. Shep came to us not too long after Moose came back into my life. That was when the Boy met him. Shep was a stray. We found him hiding in our basement, starved and afraid. I tried not to love him. I really did. But he began to follow me everywhere I would go, looking at me with those pleading eyes. One day, while so doing, he raised one paw, and I broke and said, “OK, you live here now.” He became the best watchdog and friend to us. He was always overjoyed to see us when we would return from anywhere. We don’t really know how old he was when he came to us, but I would say about two years old. He was with us for a little over a decade, so he was really getting up there in years. Cataracts had taken most of both his eyes. He walked with a limp from a fight two years previous, where two strays had ganged up on him. He was ancient and tired, and we knew he wouldn’t make it through the winter. He loved being outside, but we brought him in the house when it looked like he was beginning to fail pretty badly. He would sleep beside or at the foot of our bed. When we woke on the morning of the 30th to find that he had gone in the night, the first thing I said was, “If he hurries, maybe he can catch up with Moose.” They were pack, Shep and Moose. They loved one another and, even in the sadness, it felt right that Shep should go with Moose so they could help one another find the way. I had, and have still, this image in my mind of Moose walking down some dirt road through a forest, carrying his harmonicas, and turning to see Shep running toward him. They meet with a hug and many face kisses, and go on together down the road. That image gives me great comfort. Shep was laid to rest in our front flower bed between a poplar and a maple tree. When spring comes, he will be flower and he will be tree, and he will always be right there with us. He joins a ghost pack of some of the best critters that ever came into our lives.
I could say so much more about them both, how Shep ran everywhere he went until about 4 years ago, how Moose and I met about 50 years ago when he came home with my brother Mark to help us put up tobacco. There was a light in him then, and that light never dimmed, even when his body was shrunken and wasted. I could say how much Shep loved us except that words couldn’t contain it. I could say how much Moose loved us except I can’t, for the same reason.
I will leave you with the poem I read at his service. I originally wrote it for my mother’s memorial service. Mommy loved Moose like he was one of her own and would gladly share this poem with him. I will never say goodbye to Mommy, and we will never say goodbye to Moose or Shep. Someone has to leave you for you to say goodbye, and not a one of them has done that. Circles have no endings.
Laying the Garden by
Many were your rows of days.
The last too hard to hoe.
Many the fields you planted,
And many the seeds you’d sow.
We gather your harvest to us
With a tear, a smile, and a sigh
As we now stand on Autumn land
Laying the garden by.
But, oh the harvest of stories
And the laughter of the day
Before the turning of seasons
Did pluck the Rose of May.
We know that Spring will carry you
To earth and river and sky
And that circles have no endings
We’re just laying the garden by.
Your roots too deep for frost to touch
Still nourish the shoots you bore.
The bounty of your blossoms now
Within our hearts we store.
Your winged seeds have fallen
But to good earth they did fly.
So, a song of beginnings we’re singing
As we lay the garden by.
~Carmen Abner
“Whisper words of wisdom. Let it be.”
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