A cell phone rang, and I watched in stunned disbelief as one of the mourners (and I use that term loosely) took the call. In an audible voice he engaged in a five minute conversation, graveside. I still have a bruise on my jaw where it dropped and hit the ground.

“Time sure does fly, doesn’t it?” It’s what I think just about every day. Time is flying faster and faster. There must be something about picking up speed once you go over the metaphorical hill.

It’s sad to think that we need guidance in how to grieve, how to be with someone who has gone through a loss when it’s as basic as The Golden Rule: treat others as you would be treated. Simple as that sounds, we don’t do it.