I read your obit yesterday, The Wake, the Church , the whole nine yards. I never got to say goodbye before you ventured off to God. Strange to see your name in print. In black and white,it seemed so odd. a casualty of carcinoma metastasized from a black mole. Are you a star within the night looking down from high above? or are you hiding in the ground awaiting the last trumpet's sound. Was your life all that you'd hoped while, like a snowflake, you fluttered down. through time to eternity to briefly linger then be gone.