mirandalally
It was the first Sunday in 45 years that he had attended mass. He decided that the loss of Sharon could be healed best through Christ. He sat there, plaid fedora, gray pinstripe suit, and a red bow tie at the neck. Marty was nervous as he sat there, in the presence of the Lord. He had lost his touch with the big Man, How could he make it through the 8 o'clock church service with everyone staring at the old geezer sitting in the front row. Maybe he should move to the back. After much thought, the grieving man got up to move to the back of the church but just as he was about to get up he got a stinging pain in his back. He took that as a sign to sit back down. Marty was ready to accept the Lord's presence again. He'd done it once, he could do it again. A strange peace and happiness came upon him at the moment, as he remembered Sharon always nagging at him to take his medication and use the cane she'd lovingly decorated for him. He was ready for Sunday morning church.
There he laid. Covered in his own lies and drowned by his thoughts. He couldn't escape the thought that continued to run through his mind persistently. How was he supposed to tell her and expect her to still have faith in him?