Gail Boenning

Death — and her sister, Life — are the threads that unite all people and creatures, small and large. When one shares a story of death (or life) it is not inherently “woe is me” — not at all! Indeed, it’s a welcoming, an embrace, something that can unify, something that every human can relate to. When I write about death, or any matter dark, it’s not for pity. It’s to show that I, too, am human, a living, breathing being with a story — just like you. From your piece, if I’ve read it in the light you intended, I think you were doing the same.

This was a very touching and poignant piece, Gail. I am glad you have shared it. Thank you. Now, with every July 4th firework display I may see, I will always recall my Midwestern friend and her mother, and how she reminded me of the strings that bind us all.

I hope your celebrations are grand. There is no doubt your mother is proud of you. Even now. And for what little it’s worth: so am I.

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