Even though he hadbeen careful not to drink (his mother would be sure to smell the alcoholfrom his sweat and breath in the close confines of the car)....His mothergave him no sympathy, but didn't seem too mad about it. As they drove out of town, he eagerly looked around for a last glimpse offamiliar places and people. Within an hour, he was back to nursing hishangover and feeling sorry for himself. By lunch time, they were well on their way toward the State line. He shouldhave been feeling better. My children. My grandchildren. My parents. My terribly misunderstood and unappreciated sisters.I don’t know about the theology involved. The idea of any god killing his son in retribution for the sins of the world was mildly disgusting to me, even if the child supposedly rose from the dead. But the ritual and pageantry were enough to purge my mind as I prayed my V1 loved ones had found peace.I don’t know what else happened that morning or what the pastor spoke about. I know the tears didn’t. More

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