I remember attending my grandfather’s funeral at the age of five.
And on that cold spring day, as we pulled into the cemetery drive,
I noticed there were covered chairs for those who were close and still alive.
I figured they were special seats for those at the head of the event,
Who sat there had a special honor is what it meant.
As the years came along,
My own father’s funeral could not prolong,
That those special seats had no honor, as I was wrong.
Rather, now being there where they sat,
I know the price and pain of where those folks were at.
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