. Epilog. Sadness over the holidays affects all of us in different ways. For some it’s the loss of a family member for others it may be a friend or a pet . I can assure you , and my brothers in the stone and the dust will agree, that the loss of the holiday punch was devastating. Words cannot describe…. With tears welled in our eyes we held each other but despite life’s setbacks the human spirit often rallies . Choking back the disappointment the team were determined to stand up for what they believe in All the men , even the frugal grave diggers began digging into dusty overall pockets and producing crumpled and crimpled notes both large and small until a collection was made that would make an Irish monk blush . There was enough for not only all the punch and the purloined hors de oeuvres but they even put in for a bottled rose bud to be sent to the good woman who was hospitalized. After all her misfortune was our misfortune If working in the graveyard has taught us one thing ….. it is we’re all in this together. The punch was made just as the Long Dongs arrived; within the hour renditions of the funky chicken and the Texas two-step were being displayed atop the holiday table and on others nearby. Men danced happy with men, making slurred speeches and tipsy honorariums over the Long Dongs. Even the hospital called informing us that the woman was ok on the mend and oh by the way … where could they send the bill ? .. To the man we passed the phone around while each man “splained that we wuz in the graveyard, “ ‘Where”? came the often-repeated reply , A chorus began in the background singing off key Cow Boy and Christmas songs when they finally put me on . Yes Mam… that was IN .. “The Graveyard” …I said over all the caterwauling I think she believed me. Because when she hung the phone down she said that we sounded “Dead awful.” Py ..