Another death. Another funeral.

Another friend taken too early by that cruel, smarmy bastard – cancer. Another person whose throaty laugh and shining glint in the eyes are gone.

As we age, we encounter death more often, too often. Making sense of it, dealing with it and grieving about it is part of grappling with the lives we lead.

For many, funerals help the living. For others like me, they’re often dour occasions to be endured and gotten through as tributes to lives. They’re a way to pay respect to families, friends and the living.

This week’s funeral, however, offered something different in the familiar format – a poem that touched something deep inside. Poems, psalms, hymns and other biblical readings are standard parts of services. But this time, the short stanzas of one poem

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