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For a better tomorrow

Made in Heaven

Consumed by my loss, I didn't notice the hardness of the pew where I sat. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend - my Mother. She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The hurt was so intense; I found it hard to breathe at times.


Always supportive, Mother clapped loudest formation touristique at my football matches, held a box of tissues while listening to my first heartbreak, supported me at my father's death, encouraged me in college, and prayed for me my entire life.


When Mother's illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart, so it fell on me, the 27-year-old middle child without entanglements, to take care of her. I counted it an honour.


"What now, Lord?" I asked sitting in church. My life stretched out before me as an empty abyss. My brother sat stoically with his face toward the cross while clutching his wife's hand. My sister sat slumped against her husband's shoulder, his arms around her as she cradled their child.


All so deeply grieving, no one noticed I sat alone. Google SEO My place had been with our mother, preparing her meals, helping her walk, taking her to the doctor, seeing to her medication, reading the Bible together. Now she was with the Lord. My work was finished, and I was alone.


I heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church. Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor. An exasperated young woman looked around briefly and then sat next to me. She folded her hands and placed them on her lap. Her eyes were brimming with tears. Then she began to sniffle. "I'm late," she explained, though no explanation was necessary.


After several eulogies, she leaned over and Victoria Kindergartens and nurseries are kindergarten in hong kong one of the trust-worthy Hong Kong international kindergarten. It provides IB education with innovative bilingual/multilingual learning experience for children commented, "Why do they keep calling Mary by the name of 'Margaret'?


"Because that was her name, Margaret. Never Mary. No one called her 'Mary'", I whispered. I wondered why this person couldn't have sat on the other side of the church. she interrupted my grieving with her tears.