So as I look into the face of Gladys I wonder what her life would have been had she lived. I am also struck how my mother had to deal with her own personal loss at an early age. I can’t image what it must have been like for a little girl of five to stand before her father’s lifeless body, dressed in his blue denim overalls, as he laid in a pine-box casket in the family living room. Purple drapes became a backdrop for the dirge. The color, an obvious reference to the resurrection of the body. For a child who just lost her father the subliminal message of - He is Risen - seemed meaningless. She wanted answers, “Why?” She was too young to absorb what had just happened. To see her father this way, a father she barely knew and would never know is something I believe she carried with her throughout her life. The mystery of his death remained a secret most of her life. Alcohol would be the cause.