In Richard Steele’s doleful, later a tad sanguine, essay entitled “An Hour or Two Sacred to Sorrow,” Steele encourages the mourning and reminiscing of a loved one, and assures that healing is to come. The first thing Steele mentions is his first experience with sorrow, when he was a five-year old that only ever wondered why no one was playing with him after his father passed away. He recalls going into the room where his late father lay, and, upon seeing his weeping mother, began to call out for his deceased father, who was “locked up” in a coffin. Steele recollects his mother holding him, explaining to him that his father “could not hear [him],” and he was no longer going to be with them. The author describes his mother as a prepossessing
