Not Even Fear Itself
My first funeral experience traumatized me, but it wasn’t because of the deceased relative. No, as I peered into my uncle’s casket, mouth agape and tears moistening my tiny cheeks, the only thought racing through my mind was They chopped him in half!
The casket was half open, concealing my uncle’s legs, but to my 7-year-old imagination, his lower extremities had been removed to ensure he would fit in the box. Was this what happens after you die? I had to know more.
From that day on I spent my free time feeding my insatiable curiosity with death. I read every book, perused every article, and examined every scripture I believed …