Wendy sat on the pew, her husband’s coffin a few feet away. She was dying, not of a broken heart or colon cancer like Brad, but from lung cancer. With her sons by her side, she sat as bravely as she could, battling the pain in her purple-reddish leg, which was now the size of an elephant’s. If the blood clot in the leg traveled through the bloodstream to her lungs or heart, she could die.
Right there – in the church filled with family and friends.
Sobs filled the cavernous sanctuary. Whispers hung in the air:
He was so young.
Pity her and the boys.
In less than two months, Wendy was gone.
Strange how some moments last a lifetime.
Do you have any moments like this?