Possible

This in my in box this morning, from Barbara Crafton:

Sons. Daughters. Husbands, Wives, mostly students -- nineteen or twenty years old, brand new adults who will never have the chance to become husbands or wives, who will never have babies or grandbabies, beloved children whose parents loved them wildly and never got a chance to say good-bye. Across the state, a frantic search for favorite photographs and videos, a saving of voicemail messages in that wonderful young voice, a planning of funerals, the kind thousandfold baking of casseroles and cakes for families who cannot bring themselves to eat.

Oh, beloved! Oh, dear and funny ones, serious young ones, confused and uncertain young ones and confident young ones -- may the holy angels lead you into paradise and may you be there, in some mysterious way, everything God intended you to be here! Oh, mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers, grandmas and granddads! Oh, aunts and uncles and cousins and friends -- you all deserved so much better than this.