Friday, September 13, 2024
Rita, I can't believe you're gone. It happened so fast. You were a little spitfire. Always cleaning, sweeping, pulling weeds in your yard - always moving. I'll miss the talks we had at family dinners. I think we solved the problems of the world. With your energy, I know God will put you in charge of polishing those pearly gates. When I look up at the stars in the night sky, I know the one that shines the brightness will be you.
