There was a funeral parlour on the corner of the street I lived on. We knew everybody on the street, so whenever anyone died, my mother paid her respects at the funeral home. Because I was the youngest in the family, she’d always drag me along. I saw a lot of dead people when I was a kid. It didn’t bother me much then, but as I got older, I started feeling like you. When a long-time friend and co-worker passed in a parachute jump, I couldn’t bring myself to attend his funeral. I wanted to remember him as he was the last time I’d seen him. My parents and all my siblings are gone. It’s just me and my two sons left. I believe I’ve seen enough dead people to last the rest of my lifetime.
Yes.