Mourning

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The young couple were passing the local cemetery and minding their own business. Before long a commotion caught their attention. It seems that a man was bending over a nearby grave and lamenting bitterly,

"Woe is me; dark is my lot," said he. "How sweet this poor life of mine might have been, how precious this world would have appeared, if only your life had been spared."

The stranger paused a few moments to compose himself, then continued,

"If only I could bring you back ..."

The couple, a bit embarrassed at witnessing this private torment, nevertheless made an effort to console him.

"Are you weeping for your departed spouse?"

"No," groaned the fellow from the depths of his heart,

"I'm grieving for my wife's first husband ..."

-----------------A Final Thought ...

"Where a blood relation sobs, an intimate friend should choke up, a distant acquaintance should sigh, a stranger should merely fumble sympathetically with his handkerchief."

- Mark Twain (18351910), U.S. author (commenting upon proper etiquette at funerals)