The first funeral I went to was a grandfather when I was sixteen. Then over the years so many more ,grandparent, parents, uncles , aunts , friends. So strange, them lying there in their coffins, whole , looking as though their napping in their Sunday clothes , yet cold and hard.
I want to cry out ,where are you standing beside me ? Are sitting in the front row watching the event? Your body is here but your not.
I believe in god and an after life, but what? A heaven with streets of gold never was that appealing to me. Even as a child sitting in the pew with my parents I questioned the point of gold streets. I'm there's some plan god has just can't grasp what it can be.
: Quilting