Acceptance Questioned

He had grown up during a dying time.

He had been only thirteen when first called upon to be a pall bearer. It had been his grandmother's funeral. He had been spared having to attend the viewing the night before but spent the entire funeral service wondering what the body within the casket looked like. Snippets of horror movies ran through his head as he studied the metal latches that held the casket lid shut. When it came time to lift the casket he made sure to take a position on the side opposite those latches.

Nearly every six months for the next six years he had been called upon. Had there been such a job as professional pall bearer he would have been eminently qualified. He carried grandparents, uncles, aunts, great-grandparents, friends, and parents to their final rest. For a short time he had taken to attending the preceding viewings, then stopped. He did not care to have memories stolen by reality. He accepted that each casket contained the body it was supposed to.

But now he found himself questioning the wisdom of that acceptance... found himself questioning many things. The grandfather he had carried across the cemetery just four months ago now sat at the opposite side of his kitchen table...offering to refill his cup with hot tea.