Standing in this funeral home, I understand now what I did not know before. The crowd filtering in is a sea of blurred faces. Well-meaning people attempting to provide comfort, with words that fall flat and leave them feeling inconsolable.
I know that when the family first arrived here today and saw their loved one in a casket for the very first time, the finality of his death hit them like a ton of bricks. Their stomachs turned, their hearts clenched in their chest, breathing was something they had to remind themselves to do. They felt it all must be a bad dream.
I know that when they touch him, he will be so cold. And when they kiss his forehead, it will be as kissing concrete. They will do these things in hopes it will bring comfort, but it will break them in a new way to touch death with their own hands.
growing through grief 