This evening I went to a funeral visitation.

It wasn't something I was excited about.
It wasn't something I really even wanted to do.

But I know it's important.

I know it matters.

I remember losing the only Grandpa I ever knew.
I remember losing my Grandma.
I remember losing my Uncle.
I remember losing my other Grandma.
I remember losing Josh's Grandpa,
Josh's Grandma,
Josh's Uncle.

I remember thinking, "Maybe one of my friends will show up at the funeral or visitation.  Or send flowers.  Or a card."

Is that too much to ask?

It would have helped.
It would have meant so much.
Just to see a familiar face.
To see a friend.
To see that someone cared.

I've been to funerals or visitations of people I've never met.

But they were loved by others whom I love.

And as a way of showing my love, care, and concern, I go.
I show up.

Even when I don't want to.
Even when it's awkward and not easy and I have to answer uncomfortable questions from my curious daughter who is attending a visitation with me.

I force myself to go to funerals because it matters.

It makes a difference.

It's seen.

And it's appreciated.