As incredulous as it seems to write this, I think yesterday’s service was the first funeral I went to that actually hurt.
I can’t believe we spent the whole day yesterday preparing to say good-bye to him. It seems like such a ludicrous thing to do — admitting before God and everyone you love that no one, neither in that room nor the rest of the world, will be able to create anymore new memories with the person who died. The number of hours you just spent in your lifetime with that person has been set.
No more. That’s it. You’re cut off.
The finality of the whole, damn situation is just too much to absorb.
I still feel like I’m going to see him turn the corner and crack a joke.
