Sometimes thinking hurts my brain

I will continue my writing on the story of Flanders Music soon. It is not that I am tired of it or that I am experiencing a block of some kind. It is more that I need to compose a section on how I felt when my grandpa died.

I want to dig into what death meant when it touched me. My initial reaction was how numbing it was. Then my reaction, as a 14, soon to be 15 year old was how much I hated it. I hated the funeral and all the went with it. I vowed to never go to another funeral because they were stupid and painful.

So why in the world would I end up conducting many, many funerals? Why would I have a career in the donation industry where my job was non-stop death?

It sometimes hurts my brain to think about it. In the mean time enjoy another ditty from Paul Simon.

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