As my foot instinctively hit the brake pedal Friday afternoon in the middle of John R. Junkin Drive and my eyes searched for a place to “land” my SUV, my mind was on things I had to do later in the day.

What my eyes spotted, however, was a perfect — if a bit unusually pulled together — picture of our community.

A stream of other cars, each with headlights lit as well, followed the elongated, white car with its headlights brightly shining. Their purpose unmistakable.

I spotted the funeral procession as it topped the hill in front of the Natchez Mall.

Suddenly all the nearby traffic began to slow as drivers looked for a place to get out of the middle of the roadway.

I darted into the left-hand turn lane as if I were headed to either Belk or Applebee’s restaurant.

Another car stopped in front; another in back, and then another and another.

Suddenly in an instant, traffic had come to a screeching halt in the middle of one of Natchez’s busiest thoroughfares.

The line of cars headed east from Vidalia was substantial.

As they passed I thought back to the times I’ve been in such a procession.

Each time a memorable and sad day in my life or in the lives of someone with whom I am close.

Funerals are very strange things. I’ve never been a fan. As a child of may be 5 or 6, I recall going to the country house of my great-grandparents where my recently departed great-grandfather lay still in a casket in the front room.

I remember his son-in-law, my maternal grandfather, kneeled next to me and said, “It’s OK. It just looks like he’s sleeping.”

Truly the moment was a growing up point in my young life for sure. Since that time, I’ve attended many, many funerals, funerals of family, co-workers, co-workers’ family and well-known members of our community.

Friday afternoon was different. I had no clue who the person was being driven to a final resting place. It didn’t matter.

The man or woman deserved the respect for me to stop what I was doing and put my own life’s needs aside briefly to respect the life now gone from this earth.

I suppose it’s a Southern tradition to pull over and stop as a funeral procession passes, though other parts of the country may do the same. I don’t recall seeing any examples when I lived in Ohio, but maybe I was merely lucky to have never crossed paths with many funerals.

As the end of the procession neared, I looked inside the cars around me. Collectively, it was the face of Natchez.

I saw young and old drivers and black and white ones. I saw all walks of life and, as luck (and life in a small town) would have it, I even recognized a driver on the other side of John R. Junkin — Dan Dillard, who serves as a Natchez alderman.

The whole moment could not have lasted much more than a minute or two, but it made a brief, but profound effect on me for the rest of the day.

Natchez can — and does — pull together when it matters. And its people can — and do — support and respect one another when it matters.

Our country and even our community sometimes seems separated by chasms of politics and disharmony, but most of us, at least, still care enough about one another to stop our lives for a moment of respect.

When I got back to the office, I scoured back over the last few days of obituaries and believe the person in the hearse was likely Mr. Bobby Joe Pennington.

I do not recall ever meeting the man, but I owe him a bit of gratitude for restoring my faith in our community.

Life is too short to not respect one another.

Kevin Cooper is publisher of The Natchez Democrat. He can be reached at 601-445-3539 or kevin.cooper@natchezdemocrat.com.