Tomorrow my wife will be going to only the third funeral service that she has ever attended. I suppose that someone might consider her fortunate to have lived the last 34 years of life without having to experience death as readily or frequently as others. Regardless, she will be in attendance to support a friend, someone she has known for nearly 25 years.
She thinks she is ready. She selected the appropriate attire. She has mentally practiced what she might say, or how she might act. She has rehearsed how to be as stoic as possible (which, I must say, is barely stoic at all). She is as ready as she is going to be.
Unfortunately, nothing can prepare her for how she will feel when she sees the casket of a full-term baby, only slightly larger than a shoe box.