Stark Poignancy

The  brown casket, white satin interior carefully arranged and draped, stood out in stark poignancy in the small rural cemetery.  The scene caught the corner of my eye in a flash of unbelievabe recognition as I drove down the country road toward home.  Were those mourners standing around an open casket? 
Not quite willing to believe what my eyes had caught in that fleeting moment of vision, I turned my vehicle around in a neighbor's driveway and went back to the cemetary.  I drove on the well worn gravel drive to where the sexton's truck was parked.  The grave digger and his workers were perched on the bed of the truck displaying faces bored with the waiting.
"Is the funeral over?" I said.
"Just about...they had the visitation first.  Should be over by 12:30." the sexton stated matter-of-factly.
"I'll come back later.  I wanted to visit my mother's grave."...a white lie spoken to those who had reason to be at the back of the cemetery, while I was simply a curious observer.
Carefully, I backed my car out and headed toward the main road.  I turned left wanting one more sight of  the burial scene.
Yes, the casket's lid was open.  Mourners, dressed in black, shoulders rounded stood quietly.  Hands reached out...clutched the casket's edge.  Children ran from tombstone to tombstone.  The sun shone in a bright blue sky.  Death of a beloved was observed with simplicity and realness. Curiosity satisfied, humbled and grateful, I drove home to life.