Putting on my yarmulke

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A Different Sort of Morning

A Thursday out of the office.  A different sort of morning.

For me, a new test. Ground-breaking.

With hot sun on our faces we planted you there in an orchard of stones.

Our eyes released their sorrows, and we let you down easy.  Death absolves many sins.

He took his turn with the shovel and I held him afterword. He has always prayed to his grandmother, but now he can pray to you as well.

Was it already time for this type of worry? How old we suddenly seem. How married, even if we’re not.

I think: can there really be 3 more of these ahead?

The ride home leaves family reaching for the precious take-away, or perhaps a take-back in the face of what they’ve lost.  Stories and jokes are easiest to find, but perhaps there’s a lesson as well.  All agree:  Even in death you went gently, and without rage.

Farewell father, farewell fighter. 

Thank you, man who made the man I stand by.

Farewell father, farewell fighter.

Enjoy your rest. Amen.

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