At my twin babies’ funeral, as their tiny coffins lay before me, my mother-in-law leaned close and hissed, “God took them because He knew what kind of mother you were.”
The first time I wanted re:venge, I was standing between two coffins small enough to carry in my arms. The second time, my mother-in-law’s handprint was still burning across my face. The chapel smelled like lilies, rain, and polished wood. My twins, Noah and Lily, rested inside white caskets no bigger than travel cases, their
At my twin babies’ funeral, as their tiny coffins lay before me, my mother-in-law leaned close and hissed, “God took them because He knew what kind of mother you were.” Read More