Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
kiss from his wife, a word from his son, and later to see some old friends and a relative or two. He didn't want to talk about the journey. He wanted to forget the immediacy, the urgency, the terror then perhaps he would talk. Or would he? For he had very little to tell. He had traveled and he had returned and his voyage was very much like the voyages of the great They had been right to worry. He had suffered much after that blow-up. But now they should be rejoicing, because he had survived and made the long journey. Ralphie suddenly said, "I got to go, Dad. I promised Walt ran from the room and from the house. He and Edith sat beside each other, and he wanted badly to take her in his arms, and yet he didn't want to oppress her. He stood up. "I'm very tired. I'd like to lie down a while." Which wasn't true, because he'd to this bed again." "Not this bed," he murmured, and was a little sorry afterward. known, and that the beds and the barrier between them were her own choice, if only an unconscious choice. He went Perhaps she never would. Perhaps pajamas and robes and dark rooms would keep them from her until they were gone. Which was not what he'd considered at all important on leaving Walter Reed Hospital early this morning which was something he found distasteful, something he felt beneath them both. And, at the same time, all the people he knew had probably changed—because they thought he before. But sometime later, as he was dozing off, a sense of reassurance began filtering into his mind. After all, he was still Henry Devers, the same man who had left home eleven months ago, with a love for family and friends which was, if anything, stronger than before. Once he could He slept. Dinner was at seven in the dining room at the big table. Before he'd become the First One, it would have been a noisy affair. His family had never been noted for a lack of ebullience, a lack of talkativeness, and Ralphie had always chosen mealtimes—especially with company present—to describe everything and anything that had happened to him during the day. And Edith herself had always chatted, especially with his mother, though they didn't agree about much. Still, it had been good-natured the general tone of their lives had been good-natured. she burst into tears. It shocked him. But what shocked him even more was the fact that no one looked up, commented, made any attempt to comfort her no one indicated in any way that a woman was sobbing at the table. embrace at the door—then a few seconds later she withdrew it and let it drop out of sight. So there he was, Henry Devers, at home with the family. So there he was, Aunt Lucille made a few quavering statements about the Ladies' Tuesday Garden Club, and Hank looked across the table to where she sat between Joe and Mother—his wife and son bracketed him, and yet he felt Ralphie said, "Yeah, Dad." Aunt Lucille put down her knife and fork and murmured something to her husband. Joe cleared his throat and said Lucille was rapidly becoming a vegetarian and he guessed she was going into the living room for a while. "She'll be back for dessert, of course," he said, his laugh sounding forced. Hank looked at Edith chewing, gazing out over their heads to the kitchen. Hank looked at Lucille she was disappearing into the living room. were all standing now. He sat there and pounded the table with his big right fist—Henry Devers, who would never have thought of making such a scene before, but who was now so sick and tired of being treated as the of, that he could have smashed more than a table. Edith said, "Hank!" He said, voice hoarse, "Shut up. Go away. Let me eat alone. I'm sick of the lot of you." Mother and Joe returned a few minutes later where he sat forcing food down his throat. Mother said, "Henry dear—" He didn't answer. She began to cry, and he was glad she left the house then. He had never said anything really bad to his mother. He was afraid this would have been the time. Joe merely cleared his throat and mumbled something about getting together again soon and "drop out and see the new development" and he, too, was gone. Lucille never did manage to speak to him. He finished his beef and waited. Soon Edith came in with the special She served him, and spooned out a portion for herself and Ralphie. She hesitated near his chair, and when he made no comment she called the something anything to get away from your father." Ralphie's head dropped and he muttered, "Aw, no, Dad." Edith said, "He'll stay home, Hank. We'll spend an evening together—talking, watching TV, playing Monopoly." Ralphie said, "Gee, sure, Dad, if you want to." They answered together that of course they wanted to. But their eyes—his wife's and son's eyes—could not meet his, and so he said he was going to his room because he was, after all, very tired and would in all probability continue to be very tired for a long, long time and that they shouldn't count on him for normal social life. He fell asleep quickly, lying there in his clothes. could barely keep Phil from coming up and waking you himself. They want to go out and do the town. Please, Hank, say you will." He sat up. "Phil," he muttered. "Phil and Rhona." They'd had wonderful full of jokes. He patted Edith on the head the way he always had, and clapped Hank on the shoulder (but not the way he always had—so much more gently, almost remotely), and insisted they all drink more than was him. But except for a few abortive glances in his direction, it was as if he were a stranger in a city halfway around the world. At midnight, he was still drinking. The others wanted to leave, but he the most popular place on earth?" Rhona glanced to the left, and so did Hank and Edith. Rhona made a little sound, and Edith seemed to stop breathing, but Phil went on a while longer, not yet aware of his supposed faux pas rumbling up from his chest. "You know why, folks?" Rhona said, "Did you notice Carl Braken and his wife at—" Hank said, "No, Phil, why is it the most popular place on earth?" his hand and muttered, "I forgot the punch line." "Because people are dying to get in," Hank said, and looked through the window, past the iron fence, into the large cemetery at the fleeting nothing but laughter, or irritation at a too-old joke. "Maybe you should let me out right here," Hank said. "I'm home—or that's what everyone seems to think. Maybe I should lie down in an open grave. Maybe that would satisfy people. Maybe that's the only way to act, like Dracula or another monster from the movies." Edith said, "Oh, Hank, don't, don't!" didn't wait for Edith. He just got out and walked up the flagstone path and entered the house. "Hank," Edith whispered from the guest room doorway, "I'm so sorry—" "There's nothing to be sorry about. It's just a matter of time. It'll all work out in time." you terribly, we've all hurt you terribly, by trying to hide that we're frightened." "I'm going to stay in the guest room," he said, "for as long as necessary. For good if need be." "How could it be for good? How, Hank?" satisfied. Later, half asleep, he heard a dog howling, and remembered stories of how they announced death and the presence of monsters. He shivered and pulled the covers closer to him and luxuriated in being safe in his own home. THE END

<question>:
Why was the cemetery joke a faux pas?

<options>:
A Henry had watched many people die recently, including his own commanding officer.
B Henry himself had almost died and did not want to be reminded of the trauma.
C The joke was so old that made everyone uncomfortable to hear again.
D Henry had died, but nobody was comfortable enough to talk about it.

<answer>:

D