A number of years ago, I was at the funeral of a woman who had died of cancer. I can recall only one brief moment of that funeral, but that moment has stuck with me all of the years. It was when her coffin was being lowered into the grave.
Her family were all quietly sobbing, but at that moment, as her body was being lowered into its final resting place, one of her sons completely lost all semblance of composure. He began bawling loudly and uncontrollably, nay, hysterically, with utter abandon.
This went on for several seconds, until his brother, who was standing next to him, said one word: he said his brother's name. Not in a comforting way, either. In a manner which very definitely and very sharply conveyed the message: Enough.
The sheer contrast boggles the mind.
Brother # 1:
Our sweet mother is dead! Gone forever! That wonderful woman who gave me life, who fed me, clothed me, bathed me, sheltered me, loved me, kissed me, hugged me, held me, took me to school, picnics, outings, vacations, bought me toys, gave me birthday parties, helped me through school, was my role model, taught me so much, listened to me whenever I needed someone to talk to, gave me warmth, comfort, security, is gone! I'll never again see those friendly eyes or that warm smile. They are lowering her lifeless body into the ground forever! My God, I miss her so much! How am I ever going to get by without her?! Mama, I love you!
Brother # 2:
Jeez, knock it off already. You're making a total jackass of yourself and you're embarrassing me.
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