Unplanned Reconciliation - the Revelation Never say never. - part 1 of 2. listen to the podcast at Steamy Stories.  My friend Alan and I sat on the couch in the hotel room I was renting. He had a DVD player set up on the coffee table and was ready to show me what he had recorded earlier at his funeral home. The funeral in question was for Austin Dublin, the father of two, the husband of Tracy, and, unknown to most, the lover of my wife Vera. Alan told of how he explained to Tracy that it was normal now to videotape visitation and funeral services. Sometimes a family liked to play back the DVD to remember who came by to pay their respects as well as to have something to show relatives and friends who were unable to attend the funeral. Alan said he started the camera on the tripod at the back of the room and then left to go into his office. The video showed the open casket in the back of the room. Not much of Austin’s body could be seen by the camera. That was too bad as Austin was a handsome man who died of a heart attack at a relatively young age. Unlike many corpses, he probably really did look like himself. The ornate casket had a shiny copper skin with fluted handles. Behind and to the side of the casket were flowers on various height stands. Some were in wreaths, some in bouquets, and some were potted plants for the wife to take home. After having attended so many funerals, it was easy for me to imagine that the competing smell of all the different flowers which I was sure made it smell like, well, a funeral home. On one side of the room were a couple of bulletin boards of pictures from different times of his life from baby to grown adult. On the other side of the room was a video playing that also was made up of a lifetime of pictures set to music. As people began to sign the guest register, take a memorial brochure, and file into the room; Tracy and her daughter Shannon and son Harvey stood solemnly in front of the casket to the right. Person after person went by in single file, some hugging, some crying, and all were ‘sorry for your loss.’ Many facial tissues bit the dust that day. Among the first to arrive and spend the most time with the grieving family was my wife Vera and our daughter Alicia. Our son, Randy, had recently married and was living in another state. He had started a new job and couldn’t get away to come to a funeral of a non-relative. Our families though not related couldn’t have been closer. We were regularly at their house and vice versa. I had considered Austin as my best friend, at least until he died, and I discovered he had considered me clueless sap and cuckold. Vera was Tracy’s best friend and Tracy was Vera’s. Tracy was Aunt Tracy to my son Randy and daughter. Vera was Aunt Vera to Shannon and Harvey. My wife and Alicia occupied two VIP seats in the front row to the left of the room and also were approached by many of the people who had completed the family condolences and casket viewing portion of their observance. The closeness of our families was well known. I was sure Vera was asked where I was by a lot of people who talked to her. I’m not sure what lie she made up about my absence. I told her that Austin’s loss was too much for me to handle in public. She said she understood, but I know she was disappointed because I was supposed to speak as one of those delivering his eulogy. There was canned church music playing in the background. The crowd got to hear a mixture of old favorites like 'The Old Rugged Cross’ and 'Amazing Grace’ as well as some folk songs like 'May the Circle be Unbroken’ and 'On the Wings of a Dove.’ Eventually, the visitation line wound down to less than a trickle. Tracy and her kids sat down, tissues in hand, on the front row to the right of the room. Soon, the music stopped, and the room went silent except for a sob or two. Tracy and Austin’s minister began to gather his Bible and typed message as he moved to the podium. Many of the people gathered didn’t noti