Found an old notebook today, a journal entry from when I was 25, and an undertaker:
I’m not good at social interactions with people. I feel awkward saying “thank you” or being generous. But I can say things to the dead that I can’t say to the living. I can be with them … simple, caring …
I can say, “We’re going to make you look good.”
I have so much love inside me.
When I am with them alone I become natural and sincere—I am myself more than anywhere else.
The dead’s gift to me is their willingness to be loved.