I went to a funeral today. Besides my grandfather's funeral from over 20 years ago on the other side of the Pacific, I've never been to a funeral before. I was too young then to remember much of it. So, this was really my first experience.

He was Alan's uncle. I've never met him but it didn't stop me from crying. He died at 70, very much alone, in the bedroom that he rented, never married and had no kids. Did he live his life as he had imagined he would? Was he able to fulfill his childhood dreams? Was his story complete or did it end abruptly with unfinished thoughts? I am a realist and without being told his story, I need not ask. The truth speaks for itself. Deep down I knew the answer and that made me cry.