I went to the funeral of my family's friend today. He was in his 90s and expecting to die at any time, but apparently he had been saying that since 1978. I've been to several funerals, most of them in the past year, but as I looked at his body I realized this was the first one I'd been to with an open casket. It was the first dead body I've ever seen in person. People sometimes say they look like they're sleeping when they're in a coffin; it's actually kind of true. The skin on his hands almost looked like rubber. This is kind of macabre, but I kept expecting him to sit up or open his eyes.

I heard his wife talk to him when everyone else had left the room. I won't say what she said, but it was a strange experience to hear something like that in person and not in a movie or something.

I always feel guilty at funerals; like I didn't know the person as well as I should have, or wasn't as personable with them as I should have been. This one was no different, even though I had only met this person at varying intervals in my life, dating back to when I was a little kid. But seeing how everyone was reacting at the service, and hearing how much he had done for and meant to them, that guilt came back because I didn't have a story like that, even though I had no reason to have one.

It's been a bad few days.