Here’s a thought-provoking post from my friend Caroline High:
I was sitting in a church recently waiting for a concert to begin. It was a good evening and the choir was in fine form but it was the conversation I had with the lady sitting next to me, and not the music, that struck the biggest chord that night.
I don’t know the lady very well but she’s a very pleasant person, and so we sat together. She worships at the Catholic church we were in and in the course of conversation, told me that she’d been here the evening before, to hear Mass said in memory of a friend. “She was one of my oldest friends, and I didn’t know she’d died.” I raised my eyebrows. She went on to explain that her friend had moved a long way away, and her son had moved in with her. When she died, her son had had her cremated at…
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