Dad

This past week a dear friend’s father died. I went to his funeral on Monday. I’d never met him, but his daughter is a phenomenal person. Stepping into a funeral home was like being two places at once: at my own father’s funeral and present at my friend’s. The funeral home decor was almost identical: red velour cushions in the chapel pews, unobtrusive “comforting” music in the background, and boxes of tissue every...