Be Gentle Always

I stopped short in the driveway and stood staring. It all looked so normal, so everyday—the potted impatiens she’d planted in front of the garage, the Windexed windows, the kitchen light glowing inside. No one would have known what wasgoing on behind that front door. No one would have guessedfrom the outside that there was grieving and sickness, tears and joy mingled bittersweet.

I watched the grandkids play tag, climb the river birch tree. They yelled and laughed, fallingin piles on the gra...