I’ve heard the story of a young boy who was experiencing his first funeral. He looked around and normally happy and jovial aunts and uncles were now crying. Uncles usually quick with a joke and word, stare wide eyed at a casket. He felt fear and amazing confusion. And why not, what other emotion was there to feel? Where was there to turn? The weeping women frightened him, the glassy eyed men puzzled him, the dead uncle spooked him. Then he looks up and sees his father who smiles softly and says, It’s ok son
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