I have always suspected that Grandma wasn’t really dead but was merely living somewhere else, somewhere with green grass and a nice big garden; and while I know the woman I saw wasn’t her, I also know that it might as well have been, and that it will be.
Today I simply caught a glimpse of the joy of it, the inevitable and enduring joy.
“. . . I look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the age to come.”