Vic, Serge, John, Elaine, Kathy, Skiz and me. What created the Perfect Storm that brought home my six closest pals, all of us just shy of 50 and living all over North America, on the same weekend that my parents’ remains were laid to rest at Ste-Annes? Apart from Rich and I, no one was in town specifically for the burial, but everyone came. John stood over my mom’s ashes and sang a profoundly beautiful song. His partner Chris blessed the tiny coffin. After the ceremony, Kath and I walked the graveyard of our ancestors. Her daughter walked with us.
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