Copyright 2014 Susan Hart
“He left us too soon.”
“They all do.”
“He looks so natural; like he’s sleeping.”
“At least he didn’t suffer. Count your blessings. At least this wasn’t some long, drawn-out sickness.”
“He’ll be waiting for us all in heaven.”
Pete winced with each escalating platitude. Funerals were sad enough. They didn’t need a handful of even sadder clichés to try to bring meaning to them.
Besides, this funeral was completely devastating.
He edged past the gaggle of people offering the well-worn sayings of comfort and sidled up to the casket.