Got An Hour Or Two? That's All

You Count The Hours You Could Have Spent With Your Mother. It's A Lifetime In Itself.

She Loved Me Coming And Going, At My Worst And At My Best. She Had A Bottomless Well Of Love For Me.

You'll Come To My Grave? To Tell Me Your Problems?" My Problems? "yes.' And You'll Give Me Answers? "i'll Give You What I Can. Don't I Always?" I Picture His Grave, On The Hill, Overlooking The Pond, Some Little Nine Foot Piece Of Earth Where They Will Place Him, Cover Him With Dirt, Put A Stone On Top. Maybe In A Few Weeks? Maybe In A Few Days? I See Myself Sitting There Alone, Arms Across My Knees, Staring Into Space. It Won't Be The Same, I Say, Not Being Able To Hear You Talk. "ah, Talk . . . " He Closes His Eyes And Smiles. "tell You What. After I'm Dead, You Talk. And I'll Listen.

You Say You Should Have Died Instead Of Me. But During My Time On Earth, People Died Instead Of Me, Too. It Happens Every Day. When Lightning Strikes A Minute After You Are Gone, Or An Airplane Crashes That You Might Have Been On. When Your Colleague Falls Ill And You Do Not. We Think Such Things Are Random. But There Is A Balance To It All. One Withers, Another Grows. Birth And Death Are Part Of A Whole.

In Heaven, There Is No Judgment, But Rather An Opportunity To Examine Our Lives-who We Touched, The Choices We Made, And The Consequences Of Those Choices.