walk. In an age-appropriate way, my mama told me that because she had been divorced, the Church said she wasn’t able to receive communion. It was a hard rule. This woman, the most devout Catholic in there, kneeling in prayer as she was considered unworthy of what everyone else was going up to the altar to share in. Meanwhile, she had to watch her ex-husband, Big Pop—who had had several wives—go up and take communion with no problem. Not to mention my daddy, who embarrassed us reeking with the after-smell of all that alcohol from the night before. And you know he could curse up a storm. Not
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