It’s Got to Be Like Planning a Party, Right?
Confetti, Hope and 3/16 My mom plopped down across from me in the nursery looking hurried and determined as she readied to leave my house. She and my Dad had stayed with us three of the four weeks since my son was born, but today they were rushing back home. It had been less than 12 hours since the phone call that changed our lives. They were trying to beat the news back to my Grandmother – my Memaw – so she could hear about the death of her only grandson from them instead of Channel 12. They didn’t make it, by the way. The story broke before they could drive the three…
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