“Brownie, once more rolled up in his blanket with only the tip of his nose sticking out one end, snored softly next to me. I lay there after waking, watching the soft light muted by sheers and curtains slowly crawl across the floor and walls. Peace settled around me. I wanted to nail it to the floor to make it linger. Thoughts of going to Philip Hollandale’s funeral weren’t cheering enough to get me out of bed. I dreaded it. But of course, I couldn’t let Bitty go alone, and not just because I wo...rried so much about her emotional state. Frankly, I worried that Bitty and Parrish Hollandale, Philip’s mother, would make a graveside scene. Unlike Bitty, I’m not as accepting of exciting funerals. I prefer brief, respectful services with a few hymns and no preacher trying to save mourners’ souls. Soul-saving is for a Sunday morning or other scheduled event. Reminding widows and loving family members, even obliquely, that the dearly departed may well be shoveling brimstone is the height of insensitivity.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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