Bowdon, GA
December 17, 2025
And of his fulness we all have received: and grace for grace.
- John 1:16
The town of Bowdon is in west Georgia, just east of the Alabama line. After a ninety-minute drive, we arrived this afternoon, to honor and mourn a good man.
We weren’t the only ones. Dillard Wood died only two days earlier, yet sympathizers swarmed like bees to a melon.
When a resident of a small town dies, everyone knows it. Because everyone knew him. They saw him in the corner cafe, at church on Sunday, or the local drug store where he served as pharmacist.
In high school, he was a good athlete in every sport - an idol of men and a lure for the ladies, many of whom still admired his handsome photo as they paid respects.
He married the best one. His wife of almost six decades greeted well-wishers as she stood beside her husband’s casket.
Graceful and dignified, Joan thanked each of them, and engaged everyone in affectionate conversation. Had the receiving line been shorter, she’d probably have offered us tea as she accepted our sympathy.
We recently lamented Lou Gehrig’s illness. At his funeral, the eulogist looked over the assembled throng. No flowery words were necessary, he said. We all knew the man. And that knowledge speaks for itself.
That’s how this gathering felt. Not only the number of attendees, but the accumulated years they’d adored the departed. As often happens in small towns and close communities, relationships were deep, and spanned decades.
The service was heartfelt and sincere, laced with insight, lightened with humor, and laden with grace. It was officiated by a pastor who’d known Dillard since high school and admired him all his life.
Relaying fond memories thru choked emotion, he delivered a poignant eulogy. With moving metaphors and tender wit, he portrayed how his friend made him a better man.
Different Versions
I’d only met the deceased a couple times, long ago. But his daughter has always been special in our lives, and a testament to his.
It’s often said that life sneaks up on you. But if we aren’t careful, it walks right by. Mine almost did when I was in college.
My wife and I attended Georgia Tech at the same time, yet didn’t meet while we were there. Fortunately, both of us were friends with Shelly Wood.
I’ve told the story of the day Shelly introduced us, so needn’t repeat it now. Suffice to say, my wife and I have different versions. As Proust put it, “remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.”
But we both agree - and are grateful - we each knew Shelly. She’s remained a close friend since, and our lives have followed similar paths.
Shelly married the year after Rita and I wed. Like us, she and her husband have two children… a daughter born six months after our elder son, and a boy born twelve days before our younger one.
Our first children are both out of college, and our second ones are in their third year at the University of Georgia. It’s hard to fathom how quickly it happened.
As Woody Allen said, time flies; but it flies coach. The trip isn’t always easy. Yet our parents are there to smooth the turbulence.
Until they aren’t.
Several years ago we observed how infrequently most adults (including me) see their parents. By the time the average American graduates high school, 90% of the time he’ll spend in their presence has already passed.
Shelly made sure that with her parents that wouldn’t be the case. Living 75 miles away, she’s made a point to see them often.
During her dad’s final days, she was with them constantly. Her mother confided to me at a reception after the service that “without Shelly, I wouldn’t have made it.”
I’m sure the feeling is mutual.
Sense of Serenity
Eleanor Powell observed that “God’s gift to us is who we are. Our gift to him is who we become.”
Who Dillard Wood became filled the sanctuary. After his nephews carried the casket away, mourners filed from the packed room.
Bereavement lingers when we lose a loved one. That’s natural, and healthy. Grief is an affliction only time can trim (though sympathy and shoulders are handy chisels). But behind today’s tears sat a sense of serenity, which helps sustain the afflicted as sorrow recedes.
Many attendees returned to their homes near this tiny town. A couple dozen collected for dinner at Joan’s home. This was the house where her husband was raised seven decades ago, and where he and his wife lived the last eighteen years.
She thanked us for coming as we prepared to leave. We offered to help however we could. She appreciated the gesture but assured us she’d be fine.
With a comforting smile, she said that was among the last things she’d told her husband. “I think he needed to hear that”, she said.
“The kids had to tell him too. After we did, he seemed at peace. He just had to know we’d all be OK. It’s hard. But thanks to him, we will be.”
The next morning, Dillard Wood passed away. He’d done his job, and he was ready to rest.
JD
Poignant recounting of the Passage of a close friend now forever free of the painful affliction that hobbled him. Rare too that his eulogy was rendered to his friends by a man who knew him for the better part of a century.
JD, this was one of your best...a job well done.