Mr. Henderson

When I was a child, I spent hours playing checkers under a tree with an old man who lived in our trailer park. He later moved to an apartment on Main Street in the little town where we lived. I left town after graduation. While I was home on a visit, Grandpa Henderson died. I was in his upstairs apartment with his son just before the funeral. His son was looking out the window towards the only stoplight intersection in the town. Suddenly he ran out of the apartment. I left, wondering what was going on. At the funeral some people came in dressed in shorts and T-shirts. I was upset that they would attend a funeral dressed so casually. I later learned that some of Mr. H's grandchildren were stopped at the stoplight and his son saw them and drove after them to tell them about their grandfather. I always wonder about the timing of their arrival at that stoplight. It has always bothered me to think maybe they were not planning to stop and see their grandfather. I loved that old guy! I never knew either of my grandfathers.