No one really cares when a stranger dies, but when it’s someone who’s connected, that’s when you really feel some loss of your own self. That’s when a piece of your life is yanked out by its roots. Shrivels up, dries out, and dies along side of them. You’re left with a piece of something resembling driftwood. Make a lamp out of it.
I’m not really a fan of big funerals, but I guess it’s hard not to want to know the final score of your own funeral. To know how many people gave up some of their precious time to mourn your departure in front of others.
I frequently pass the premier funeral home in the town where I work, and can’t help but notice the relativity of funerals. How many cars fill the lot, what manner of police, and how many, are needed to control and divert traffic. It makes me wonder how on earth we perceive any differences between  all those cadavers that are processed within. There are none of course. We see a nose count; of a pile of social i.o.u.’s being repaid.
Then there is family, the connected ones, who owe nothing, but really pay the cost: sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, fathers, and mothers, lovers and friends. And sometimes our enemies are there in spirit.
Take Joe Paterno, wasn’t nothing to me but a jock over achiever. Granted, the man produced and developed individuals into great players and great football teams.
Oh,  and he also produced disappointment beyond words to the parents and families of some kids who will never know a normal life for as long as they live.
Coulda, woulda, shoulda.
Joe, all you had to do was put your self in those kids’ shoes, just for one moment. You would realize those shoes would never go on to reach the goal post God had set out befor them. For those boys, the goal post of a normal life will never be achieved. Did you even try their shoes on for a second, just one second?
But what’s one lad’s misfortune in comparison to the lives of all those athletes, students, and all that fine education. All the stuff money can buy, all those jobs in and around State College, PA. The best that money can buy, and it was all you Joe, all you.
Was it worth it Joe; are you willing to pay for it now? Willing to pay that price now, for the uselessness and ephemeral quality of a winning season. Of twenty-five winning seasons?
It just wasn’t your fault Joe, we understand, you had bigger fish to fry. You passed the buck, we know.
And now your cold body will live forever under stone, and the only thing that really matters Joe, is did you have time?  When you saw the light did you have time to say you’re sorry? In your final moment did you say you’re sorry for what happened to those kids?
Life is full of placebos Joe, those little pills given to us by those we have trust and faith in. Well Joe, you were mercifully given a nocebo, to spare you endless hours of having to look yourself in the mirror.
You had a great going away party. Everyone and anyone who was anybody in football was there. Well almost, except for a few young boys, their mothers and fathers.
You could have swerved Joe.
You could have gone off the road and into a ditch. You could have upset that damn apple cart. But you choose to stay the course to fame and fortune.
Now you rest.