Attending funerals are part of life or so I'm told. When I think about death my mind takes me back to my grandmother. A woman who lived 87 years. She lived during the Great Depression, the commission of Mount Rushmore, Hemingway's marriages/divorces, love, children, friendship, experiencing death of parents and loved ones.
I was not born when my grandmother lost her youngest son, my uncle David. She spoke of him often. She spoke of her broken heart, saying good-bye, and burying her child.
I can honestly say her pain was never felt more than today.
Today, I attended a funeral for a 3 year old named Morgan Faith. A beautiful little girl who was loved by many. She was murdered by her mother's boyfriend.
Today, I witnessed the pain of parents, grandparents, and an entire community bury Morgan Faith.
Grandma, I understand. My heart is heavy and sad. Witnessing Morgan's grandfather's say good-bye was heartbreaking.
My wish for the New Year is hope. Hope for our little community to heal, to remember the joy and innocence this little girl brought to so many.
