I listen and try to imagine what seminary taught this person, trained her to say with determination that my mother was such a good woman, and a loyal servant, and the path of her life was a victory to celebrate.
I imagine my mother drinking a Pepsi with Jesus, who sits on an enormous throne, wreathed with blinding light.
Snap back.
The preacher asks if the children would like to say a few words. When my turn comes, I do not.
I stay silent.
The nodding donkey nods.
[#]memory #loss #grief
=> More informations about this toot | View the thread | More toots from murodegrizeco@toad.social
=> View memory tag | View loss tag | View grief tag This content has been proxied by September (ba2dc).Proxy Information
text/gemini