But this world wasn’t real anymore. What were real were those doors, the smell of oak and incense in the church, and there in the front, the casket. That was real. So I mustered all of the stoic resolve my early-20's self had, and stepped through the door.It gets better, I promise. Click through to read the rest.
Monday, October 15, 2012
I'm posting over at A Deeper Family today about how, even when our loved ones pass on, their legacies can live on for generations.