I've been to a few funerals in my life, and I can't say that I particularly enjoyed any of them, but the one I went to today was more moving than any of the others.
It was for the local boy who had killed himself. The small church was packed, with about fifty kids from the school, mostly standing togethe, and about one hundred fifty adults. The minister gave a very moving homily, saying that while it had to be admitted that the boy had made a mistake, not realizing how many people liked him and needed him, she still believed that he was now safe and secure in his Father's home, probably (the boy had been in the drumline in the school band) playing loudly in a room with very thick walls so he wouldn't disturb the other angels. And that no one should take today as a reason to grieve, even though she knew that they would, because they could know that, no matter what, no matter what, their Father loved and cherished them, and was saying that to this kid, right now.
I tell you what, it almost made me think going to masses is a good idea.
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