THIS TIME I didn’t just see through the mirror, I walked through it. I’m in it now, standing outside a cathedral. The vibrant colors of the stained glass windows are glinting from the sunrays that are bouncing off of them. Perfectly manicured green grass surrounds it. People all dressed in black are filing in through the large front doors. They walk with a dejected posture and solemn faces. I recognize a few, but I don’t see anyone I really ever knew that well, until I see them. Our minivan pulls up and Grayson steps out. He’s dressed in a fine black suit and red tie. His face is empty, eyes hollow. When he walks around and slides the side door open, I see the kids. Devin. Desiree. Devin’s wearing a little black suit matching his dad’s, and Desiree’s wearing a simple gray dress with a red sash. Her little feet step out in black ballet flats. She instantly grabs on to Grayson. He squeezes her little hand in his and gives her a comforting nod. She displays a faint smile, but it doesn’t reach her sad eyes.
