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The way through the funeral home was laden with wreathes.
“Guess he was connected,” I remarked to my wife.
“Shh,” she scolded, glancing around.
“What? Everybody knows.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to say it.”
I let the matter drop as we sat down.
Once everyone was seated, someone got up and began to speak.
“Times like this remind me of wabi-sabi. From the acorn comes the tree. The tree falls and turns to dirt, a home for new acorns. Tony understood this. He lived his life knowing it wouldn’t last, but conscious that that’s just the way things are.
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