It seems kind of insensitive to keep referring to the resurrection at a funeral. Like, God, why are you rubbimg it in?
I’m just not so sure about a God who is just as generous with inexplicable death as he is with parking spots.
I mean, what exactly is the point in praying for her food when her dad died six days before she was born from something the top cardiothoracic surgeons in the state explained by saying “I don’t know why this happened.”
I don’t know how to cook for one. I make too much of everything and end up with leftovers that I won’t eat.
It’s almost been three weeks. The rest of the world seems to have jumped back into their routines while I still sit and sleep with this thing, or the loss of it, on an hourly basis and I’m reminded of it even more. In this instance, what, exactly, is the right response to “How are you?”
Rest in power since you couldn’t find peace.