Why do we go to the funeral when people die,
Is it that we find comfort in holding hands with people while we cry.
We wipe our eyes and sniffle with a sigh,
Because you will never be able to say goodbye.
They speak with clarity and try to be fair,
But to tell the truth they would never dare.
While standing there rubbing your hands through your ever thinning hair,
You realize one day you also will be there.
So we celebrate their life without despair,
Until it’s our turn to be laying ever so peacefully up there.