At My Mother’s Funeral, A Recognition That Rewrote My Love Story

his hand finding mine.

I nodded, squeezing his fingers. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

St. Mary’s Church stood as it always had, its Gothic Revival architecture a landmark in our old neighborhood, unchanged by time or personal tragedy. Inside, the familiar scent of candle wax and aged wood brought a flood of memories—Sunday services in uncomfortable dresses continue reading …