The Spiritual Aspect of Things

The priest walked up behind Ruthridge as he reached the halfway point of digging some extra graves.
"There's a phone call for you," said the priest.
Ruthridge climbed up on out wondering what his mother wanted. She was the only one he gave the church's number to. It turned out to be his best friend from college, Jeff. His mother gave him the number, he explained, because she thought he would like to hear from an old friend. She was deeply worried.
"No, I don't dig graves all day. I'm also the gardener, landscaper, plumber, and maintenance man."
His friend was impressed, but then he asked Ruthridge if he missed the town at all.
"Don't you want to go to a bar and meet some pretty girls?"
Ruthridge chuckled. His friend reminded him of old times.
"Yes, but I have a lot to do here. Father Shane is busy enough handling the spiritual aspect of things."

Something of the Boy was in There

They waited over a year until they finally had Ruthridge dig them a hole for their son. Surely if he was ever coming back he would have by now. Ruthridge attended the service and contemplated the hollow coffin lowered into its spot in the hole he dug as the sun rose and the birds awakened. He did not make the hole as wide or long but it was deep. He did not need the priest to tell him. The ground he knew should fit snug around the coffin. And even though it was empty, everyone would still act like something of the boy was in there.

We Need You

Three days later, Ruthridge was digging a new grave for Mrs. Stinson, his English teacher at JFK Middle School. She lived to be the grand age of ninety. She liked to tell her students about her license to fly and she always took her best student on a flight in her Cessna at the end of the year. Ruthridge went with her and it was fun for him even though being in the airplane with a tiny 60 year-old pilot was unnerving.