The Finality of Death and What They Don’t Tell You …

My mother’s funeral was the first I ever attended.

I was young, in my early 30’s, with a five and nine year-old, and I didn’t quite know what hit me. I even had the audacity to believe I was prepared.

We’d had plenty of time. We knew the inevitable, knew the odds were that one day we’d be at this place, knew it would be the better outcome. So you straighten up, smile stoically and do your best to bear it.

But … you can never prepare for death.

That’s a crock. That’s the first thing they don...