When I think of mortality, I think of people whose lives are cut short due to illness, accidents or violence. Like my mother, who was only 32 years old when she died of cancer in the late 1950’s. Her death came much too quickly, less than a year from the time she received the news until the time she died. I was much too young to have first-hand knowledge of the events surrounding her death, but I can imagine what it must have been like for her. The fear she felt must have cut her like a knife. Read more
Redbuds and Roserocks 