My great uncle passed away the other week, and with that came the wake and funeral.
We arrived just after 5 p.m. and walked through the large white doors with robust golden handles, signed our family name in the visitation book and were greeted by a desk chalked full of achievements and accolades reflecting back on the decades that once composed a man’s life.
Proceeding through the conveyer belt that is a wake, a flat screen television slowly shuffled snippets of moments encapsulated in a single frame of a picture.
An emotion, a breath so much alive no longer.
I knelt, motioned my left thumb to my forehead, then my chest, my left and right shoulder and I said a small prayer to a man I never really had the opportunity to get to know.