My dad reads the newspaper. He came across an obituary mid-April that he cut out and saved for me. He gave the clipping to me Mother’s Day weekend.
My music teacher passed away. I asked my father why he hadn’t told me sooner, and he responded, “Why? He’s still dead.”
Uncomprehendingly, he kept me, and my sister, from the opportunity to pay our respects. Memorial services are not for the dead. They are for the living. They provide structure for our grief. And closure.
RIP