Funerals are God's way of telling us how insignificant we really are.

We all feel like we're never gonna' die. We should feel that.....I mean unless you're dying of something. Then maybe it might be OK.

But once you see the person who's been there for you, and loved you since you showed your ugly mug to this world, get put in a box and lowered underground....

It sobers you up a bit.

Me and my friend were at the church with the rest of the folk waiting for the casket to arrive.

The organ player was terrible. I don't know where they got this lady. She must of got one of those books called "Learn to Play Organ in 24 Hours"

Anyways, me and my friend started giggling a bit. I looked around and saw people crying, and hugging. I was then reminded where I was and felt bad.

Even though the organist kept on taunting me, I stayed kept my composure.

When the casket came everyone was in tears.

John, my roommate walked behind. His coat was a couple sizes too large and it was unbuttoned.

When you know somebody well enough, you can read their face. His said "Why now? Why the fuck did this have to happen now?"

He walked side by side with his brother, who was providing the shoulder for his mom to cry on.

I talked to John briefly about his dad before this. He was telling me how great his dad was. How there was never that macho thing that father's and sons sometime have where they can't say 'I love you' to each other. He said he didn't know what he was gonna do without him.

I didn't know what to say. I just told him that he had a relationship with his father that few sons have. He was lucky. I told him that my father's father died during a time they weren't speaking to each other. He's never gotten over that.

He liked that story. I made him feel better. The great thing about having a family that's so messed up is that they can even make the most down-in-the-dumps fella' feel like a million bucks after hearing just one short tale.

After they laid the casket in the ground, John and his family got in the limo and took off.

I was suppose to meet him at his mom's house but he never gave me directions.

It's OK. He had tons of family and I'll see him soon enough.

I never met John's dad, but I didn't need to. I live with his son. I've hung out with his other son. You get a better understanding of a man from his work then from meeeting him.

People can lie, and make themselves appear to be something they're not. But if you know a man's son. And know that person to be of the highest regard, as I do of John. It's a pretty safe bet to assume that he wasn't tied to the bed and beaten with a stick for not eating all of his vegetables as a child.

John's gonna' be OK. His father raised him to be able to deal with what life throws at him. And that's important, because even though I have 10 x's thicker skin than John does, he's 1,000 x's better equiped to deal with these types of things than I do. When my friend died when I was 16 I mopped around for the next 6 years. I didn't let myself go to college, I drank, I did drugs, I did everything but just feel the pain, mourn my friend's death, and move on. I just moved on, and I've never been the same because of it.

John's going back to work Wednesday. e's going to notice that life hasn't stopped for him. Customers will still be rude, and his bosses will still be assholes. That shit wasn't easy before he put his father in the ground, and he'll be resentful of it without even knowing it.

But if their is a God, and if He does take people away from us. He leaves us with each other. Is that any less cruel? Is that any more fair? Probably not. But being a friend is a job, and we, as friends were left with a job to do. It's MY fucking job that John isn't lying in bed all day in a hopeless state of depression. If their is a God, he put the right guy as his roommate. I will not allow this guy to fall in the rut I did when I was 16. If I have to tie a rope to his foot, to my car and drag him out of bed, I'll fucking do it.

I will not fail him.

I will not fail Him, either.

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