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May 17th, 2003

Along with many others I listened to the funeral service of former First Lady Barbara Bush.

I watched her grandsons carry her casket to the hearse.

I watched the video feed of the funeral procession.

I listened to the music.

I sat quietly.

She was admired, respected and loved.

God gave her a gift of ninety-two years.

My thoughts went to May 17th, 2003.

Another funeral service.

Only two people talked about her life.

Her mother and her sister-in-law.

Another funeral procession.

She didn’t live long enough to have grandsons to carry her casket.

Instead it was her parents, her brother, family friends and a childhood nanny.

Her mother lowered her casket into the ground, saying –

“I brought her into the world. I’ll return her myself.”

The grief was as deep.

The sorrow as dark.

No, she didn’t have a cortege of cars with flashing lights led by an escort of bikes.

She wasn’t important to the nation.

Only to those who loved her.

She was eighteen.

A life lost before it could be fulfilled.

Cyber hugs and Blessings All.  May you live to see your children’s children.

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