After a little while, I became cynical about the event in general. The only thing anyone had said that made any sense was on the boat earlier in the day when Diane said that we shouldn’t be here. This service shouldn’t be happening. Rick should have been alive when these friends of my parents died. He should have gone to their services. That’s how it’s supposed to work. Maybe I should go to his service, but I should be decades older. My kids should go to his service, but not until they were like fifty years old.
