If You Don't Laugh, You Cry

They had just lowered the casket.

The 21 gun salute was starting.

And little Carl was standing behind me. Four years old, in his tiny little man suit. I was crying silent tears. And angry with everyone, including God. That's when I heard Carl whisper to his mother.

"Did they shoot him? He's already dead!"

So I remember that and laugh. Instead of the alternative.