“If they can’t come to see me when I’m alive, I don't want them staring at me when I’m dead.” Just one of Mom’s famous words on death. She doesn’t do well with it. For reasons I'm always looking to discover, it sort of spooks her.

Her mindset influenced my perspective as a young person. Not anymore.

I was in grade school when Grandpa died suddenly. When the news came, right there at the kitchen table my tough-as-nails dad sobbed and sobbed for his daddy. Never had I seen him even shed a tear. Dads didn't cry.

He wanted me to go to Grandpa’s viewing before the service. I was afraid; I wanted my grandpa alive. We parked in front of the church. He coaxed me (which was odd in itself because he never requested, only commanded), even walking around to open the car door and gently pulling me out. I couldn’t do it. He went in alone, and we stayed in the car until the casket was closed.

Dad dug his own father’s grave. Maybe he had help from my uncles, but I don’t know for sure. What a beautiful final gift. I didn’t know about it until I was an adult, but I love it so much.

I won’t ask my children to dig my grave (although I do believe a couple of them would do it); but I am, hereby, requesting the tradition at the Jewish funerals of my beloved brother-in-law’s parents. The casket is lowered while all are present (nothing is lonelier and more sad to me than the family walking away leaving the body of their loved one sitting there all alone waiting for strangers to do their job). Then shovels are made available and the family and friends are asked to participate in covering their loved one. Each person's first shovelful is done with the shovel upside down, because death is hard. And it is then followed by several more normal shovelfuls.

Death is a normal part of life. None of us gets out of this world alive in this body. I’m ready. Are you?

For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life. John 3:16