tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5263239775329950565.post3936306313777312357..comments2023-03-25T00:29:59.756-07:00Comments on Brittle Road: Church ServiceSpringer Kneebloodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02208420044446366675noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5263239775329950565.post-49042380856626910172008-12-11T07:16:00.000-08:002008-12-11T07:16:00.000-08:00When I was in high school, I attended one funeral ...When I was in high school, I attended one funeral a year. Twice for actual friends and twice to support people close to me. All were held in the local catholic church that years later would see me again for my niece's funeral. I got no comfort from that place or the people in it as an adult, there to see 3 months of a life mourned. But I distinctly recall feeling <I>safe</I> there as a teenager, surrounded by nearly the entire student body (small town, then); all people in my own age bracket that I instinctively knew felt the way I did. There were no rules for grieving and I've rarely come closer to something like a spiritual experience. <BR/><BR/>All that to say that I don't think it's the place, so much as the people.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03369520502334089555noreply@blogger.com