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A childhood belief about people

My Uncle Paul died when I was seven years old, and my Grammie asked my older brother to be a pallbearer.

Grammie died shortly after Uncle Paul, and my mother again asked my older brother to be a pallbearer. Upon hearing this I immediately corrected her, "No Mommy - Donald was a pallbearer the LAST time, when Uncle Paul died. Don't you want him to be a Grammie-bearer THIS time?"

Despite the grief of their mother's death, I don't think that I have ever seem my mother and my aunt laugh so hard!

— David Bugea

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