Love: Pass it on.
My mother died on Thanksgiving Day and I have never felt more joy in my life. Am I mad or merely cold-hearted?
I was raised believing in Me and Mom and Dad. And that was pretty much it. God wasn’t in the picture. Or rather, he was but I didn’t know it.
My parents were children of the Depression, and as a result grew up devoted to Security. Money was good because it bought Things. Things were good because they bought Security. And Security was good because it bought Happiness.
And for a long time that seemed to do it for them. I grew up watching Dad make money, which he was brilliant at, and Mom make crafts, which she was brilliant at. She loved beautifying her surroundings.*
But after my father diedat age 45 and my mother disintegrated into grief, I lost whatever was left of…
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