This is the time of year I start thinking about funerals. September is the anniversary of the first funeral that affected me deeply. It was less than a month into college, and my high school friend Dan Gibbons died. His service was performed by my childhood pastor Father Connolly, who I've mentioned before.
Where I live in South Boston, there are two funeral homes almost across from each other. One of them is named Casper, if you can believe it. It's not uncommon at all to see at least one of them active over the weekend. I mostly end up crossing the street or walking by awkwardly in shorts or work out gear or whatever sweat pants I have lying around. I haven't seen both homes operating once, which would probably be horrifying to me.
If I walk by later and neither homes are operating, I'll consider that the start of a good day.
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