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Dozens of candles still burned in red glass votives next to a window on the west wall. These lit a glow into the portraiture of the nativity etched into the stained glass.
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I didn’t know it then – this was my first funeral – but much about this ceremony was unusual. Never again would I see an open casket at the gravesite. Never again would I attend a funeral where all the mourners encircled the open grave. And never a
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-No, just drugged, I remind myself. The hallucinations are more real, more accurate than before. While the dreams get more nightmarish, the hallucinations get more nostalgic. I prefer the nightmares. No one knows if this treatment will work, but what bett
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