I didn’t get to say goodbye to Tim Hodgson before he left Ypsilanti – but at least I can read about it.
Originally posted on tim hodgson's blog:
Funerals are for the living. The man lying in the coffin about to be lowered into the ground, the woman reduced to ashes in an urn about to be sealed in a crematorium, the sailor dragged to the bottom of the ocean by the weight of a stone—they don’t care. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust in the literal sense. Bodies reduced to base organic compounds, returned to the earth from whence they came. But these bodies, these masses of chemistry and biology, were people. People who loved, who hated, who laughed and cried and got hurt and healed and lived and died. Funerals are for the friends and enemies and family and strangers to throw the dirt on the closed lid, shut the stone on the vault, salute the departed to twenty-one guns. Funerals are for closure. Funerals are final, absolute, forcing the visceral knowledge on the loved…
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