On the way to work my boss, Mike, and I, stop to get gas and a bite to eat. As we climb back in the truck, the phone rings. He answers it and steps outside. When he returns, I know something is wrong. “We need to run by the church. I have to sign some papers for a committee I’m on,” he says. Then there is silence…
July 15, 1993 is the day that my mother, at the age of 35, unexpectedly took her last breath. She was the individual who tucked me into bed each night, made sure I was bathed and fed, and played with me. She was the woman who loved me unconditionally and who taught me how to pray. She was the person who held me for the first time and heard my first words. She was the person I trusted…