MEMORY PLACES REMAIN….IF ONLY IN THE MEMORY OF FORMER TIMES. AND FORMER LIVES.
I reached for my phone to call our dog sitter friend: realizing this was the fourth call in a year telling her we needed to travel back to Maryland for a funeral.
As we walked into the small limestone church of my husband’s youth, set amongst the mountains in rural Maryland – I saw her lying in the open casket that greeted us as we walked into the vestibule.
Funerals have a way of making old manageable wounds sharpen again. They bring past hurts to the surface as if your wound was fresh: bleeding, throbbing and needy of immediate attention. A palpable pain.
Sitting at Aunt Sis’s funeral, looking around at a sea of black, I wondered how many other people were feeling a sharp wound in their heart from a past significant loss. How many minds were trying to focus on the funeral that was about to start while…
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