I was asked a couple of weeks ago if I would be available to perform her funeral. "If my schedule permits, I’m most willing," I responded. Nevertheless, I cringe at the thought. It is true; I want to be there. I just wish things were different. I wish my visit was for a happy occasion. Maybe a wedding or a child dedication. But death—why does it have to be this way?
I’m certainly not the only one who has felt this way. In fact, the question of why has likely passed through the minds of every human being since the fall of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.