Deceased. Unrespected by most of his family; few shed tears.  Still, he had a place in their lives. Memories come flooding back but they're not what you might think. No jovial "remember when"s cause faces to smile and remember nostalgically. Not one.  Instead remember when he asked the little girl to take her shirt off for a dollar? That's the thought that continues to bombard the mind. It's not personal, this death doesn't feel personal. It's just a fact, sterile and cold. Consequences resulting from the death are another story. Those things bring with them saddness. But even for eyes that cry easily... tears evade... Even a compassionate heart hardens.