The graveyard is the everlasting home of every man.

Trees raised their naked, mottled branches to the sky like mourners stilled in attitudes of grief.

There lives a weeperin each of us-a silent mourner honoring our despairwhen our willingness slain by helplessness continues to resurrect to be slaughtered again

Stop the pity party! Your sorrow is full and complete when you go through unfortunate circumstances and decide to mourn for life as a result of the unexpected.