Why the Chaplain Chose Me

"It's hard to deny God in death," said the chaplain, as we stood around outside the service and waited for the parents to leave.

He said it quietly and only to me. I was at once both flattered and offended, pleased to be chosen for his aside, that he trusted my discretion and understanding, but upset he thought me safe, too witless to respond, to challenge the statement as another man might.

I half-smiled.

The parents appeared, went straight into the car and away.

The party began to break up. Some were leaving now, uncommitted, but their presence, I suspected, meant the most; others would remain, swollen and unable to speak. If you could talk, your grief was less. Perhaps that's why the chaplain chose me.