Late Sunday afternoon, December 26th, 2004: Alone and bareheaded, I stand at the foot of my grandson’s grave. Atmosphere is frigid, with temperatures only previously ‘teens. A stiff northerly breeze brings the wind chill very near to zero, and freezes my tears to my dial.

I attended a funeral service umc for my mother’s sister this week, did not take long brought home one that is bittersweet good-byes of all, the loss in my own mother. Another member of my family passes on, and we grieve the loss. Again. We are not after dark pain, at this time. We have not quite healed from a newbie one.

Maybe that’s why, once we grew up, it gave the impression of you constantly tried to manipulate me into being a point of you for everything. Nothing I did ever seemed to please an individual. My high school grades were never high enough, my girlfriends were never good enough, the college I was accepted to wasn’t prestigious enough, my lady wasn’t. wifely enough, my choice associated with the Air Force career wasn’t dignified enough.

“Tony? What’s happening? You shouldn’t be up presently there. That’s for the minister.” Tony stopped, and rejoiced at her tone of voice. “What are you doing in here, at least?” He looked down at the worn book in his hands, put in first time he could remember, he felt life stirring in that room.

Who ever said that money can’t buy happiness must have forgotten in regards to the four-legged friends, we call pets. Often pets stop us from being alone and are faithful and loyal to their own owners. And still have become action of whom you are and definitely become role of family members members quite easily.

Advertising is really a small subset of whole marketing route. Advertising’s job is things your phone ring. But marketing concentrates on the whole of the revenue generating process. You don’t make money because someone called your funeral home. You only make money if you really serve family members.

The sorrow of that loss requires a voice. It really is the voice of that part of me that died with her, and the voice of that part of her that yet lives through me personally. It is the voice that reassured her, while she walked through the lonesome valley, that she was not truly by myself. And it is the voice that reminds me, neither am I.