I was chatting with my Mom over IM the other day when she told me a story about my brother Mark (well, sort of). A little background is required. After the funeral and the internment ceremony, there was a reception at my parents church (which is right next to the cemetery). At the reception there were blue, helium-filled balloons. Those who went to the reception were asked to write a message to Mark on a 3×5 card and staple it to the strings attached to the balloons. At the end of the reception they were going to let them go. We actually missed this part of the reception as Toren came down with a fever during the reception, so we left early and took him to a clinic in Ogden. Anyway, the balloon release took place as planned, leading up to this story:
Eugenie: You know how we let the balloons go?
Eugenie: Well, the next Sunday after church – that was 4 days later – Kristen (one of Mark’s sisters-in-law) looked up on the hill where his grave is. There was one blue balloon hovering over his grave.
The nice thing about this story is that a it’s a touching story regardless of your worldview.
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