Today I witnessed a horrible spectacle, where a man was hit by a car. He did not survive.
He was given a funeral and formal ceremonies alike. At this man’s funeral a large number of people showed up.
The people that went to his funeral came from all places. Some knew him from work, some knew him from school. Some knew him from home, and some knew him from his apartment building. Some knew him through the people that he didn’t really know, and some knew him through the places he visited only once in his life.
The owner of a famous nightclub came to his funeral and paid him homage after realizing that it was this man, the recently deceased, that gave him the idea to start his own nightclub. It happened one night in a dive bar, when the man commented on the wall designs, or lack thereof, and wanted to go to a bar that made great use of the walls, artistically.
The president of the golf club, a 90-year old prune, said, “he was the best damn fella’ I ever knew! He hit the balls,” stuttering… “all over the course!” He said. “I am sure he’s up there… somewhere… hitting those balls on fairways in the clouds…” he began to tear up, and began a slow lazy walk back to his seat.
A kid, younger than the others, walks up to the microphone, mostly confident, not affected by the sorrow. “I can’t believe this guy got hit by a car!”