My first memory comes from when I was 3-4 years old. I spotted a dead honey bee on the lawn in our back yard. I was suddenly overcome with sadness.
So, I picked up the honey bee and walked over to the dirt garden. I knelt down and dug a grave with my hands. I gently placed the bee’s body in the grave, and then I softly covered it with dirt.
I made a cross out of popsicle sticks to mark the gravesite and then said a prayer. (I don’t remember what I said.)
But after giving the bee a proper funeral, I suddenly felt better. I was relieved. All was well.
I have attended lots of funerals throughout my 70 years. Reuniting with family and friends, and pondering eternity, these funerals have always made me feel better. “All is well.”