Pat's writing has influenced our appreciation for Beaufort and the Lowcountry. We have explored the islands featured in many of his books and have grown to love the art, music and food of the Gullah people.
Pat Conroy died on March 8th of this year. We had always fantasized about bumping into him on the streets of Beaufort, about shaking his hand and having an opportunity to say "thank you" for the hours of delicious reading and an introduction to his Lowcountry; for the peek at the pain and delight of being a human living in the South.
So we made a pilgrimage to his grave today. We knew that he had asked to be buried in a small cemetery on St. Helena Island, alongside the Gullah people whom he had loved and who had loved him in return.
St. Helena Memorial Park, owned by the Brick AME Church, was a little hard to find, down a country road, unmarked and small among the moss covered live oaks.
The adornments on the neighbouring graves speak volumes about the people with whom Conroy wanted to rest through eternity. Fishermen, black sisters and brothers, a veteran of a war which he opposed and someone who loved elephants. He embraced them all!
Conroy's relationship with the military was complex. As readers, we know of the stormy relationship that he had with his father in "The Great Santini". We know about his years of conflict, revulsion, and objection to his military training at the Citadel in "Lords of Discipline". Yet at his funeral, not only did cadets from the Citadel have a presence, but graduates showed their class rings as he had asked.The camaraderie from those college years endured.
As Bruce and I head towards Savannah and a reunion with the comrades with whom he fought in Vietnam (the war that Conroy opposed), we are contemplating the tumultuous times of our youth, the decisions we all made, the forces which shaped us.
We are thankful for those who have challenged us to continue to question and yes, eventually moderate as we age. Pat Conroy was one of those.
