Wednesday, November 2, 2011

"Who was that masked man?"

One day I stopped by my house between a funeral and a graveside internment. I never have liked to follow the policemen in those funeral processions. I left immediately after the service and dropped by my house. I checked the mail, got something to eat and drink, and then decided to go to the cemetery. I figured I had plenty of time. As I came near to the cemetery I saw that a line of cars had already moved in and gathered around a body. I was late.

I sped my pace, parked my car, and ran to the graveside, naturally in a reverent way. I walked to the head of the casket, steadied myself, and looked out on the crowd. I didn’t know anyone. It suddenly occurred to me that I was at the wrong funeral.

I lowered my head and made my way to the car as quickly and reverently as I could. As I left I could hear people say, "Who was that masked man?"

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