Ingrained in me as much as saying “yes ma’am, yes sir” my entire life- you go to funerals out of respect for the deceased and for the family. It’s just what you do. When my sister passed, I stopped going to funerals. I hardly remember hers and I planned it. Too much, too awful, PTSD to the 10th power. I did try to support others and attend funerals. Perhaps close to one year after Carollyne died, a work friend’s mom passed, so I wanted to support her. Bad planning on my part, not looking at the location in advance, that it was the same funeral home and chapel as my sister’s service. I sat in the car for 10 minutes, “I can do this, I can do this”, just a quick hello, give her a card and hug and get out of there. Walking up the sidewalk, I started to feel light- headed, I entered the chapel, heart pounding out of my chest- it was the same everything, casket spray looked the same. Carnation smell overload. My knees started to buckle, sweat on upper lip. My mantra not working, “I can do this?” Same usher with flatten dutch boy toupee…he remembered me, but forgot his so called-professionalism. “You can’t pay, we can put her “sister” in the morgue until the insurance check arrives”. I kept thinking it wasn’t like she was a freezer meal! I’LL NEVER forget that, she didn’t even WANT a funeral- did it to make her daughter happy. I digress, current day, I was glad to go with my daughter and support her and speak to the family that lost their wife, mom, friend to our family. Life goes on. I can do this.