Stephen Ryan:  

Miss Ruby There are times when writing from the heart, the first few lines are difficult to grasp, however the following sentences and fewer paragraphs spilled freely and innocently onto the sheet as I only watched. There may be many, or possibly very few who will ever read the words written here and that matters not at all. The thing that does matter is that each word found here was written only for the special one who will know them first, and for her alone to know, both her and I. It is for you alone that I share this special place, special times, and a friend. On a dirt, country road lies a small and humble church that I found in desperation one afternoon long ago. The time was two in the afternoon, the date was March 23, and it was a Monday in 1998. I stopped under a large tree, and in another few moments I found myself kneeling in prayer at the edge of a small cemetery. Tears flooded my eyes and my voice broke in sobs as I prayed. Looking back to that afternoon now, I realize that it was a selfish prayer I gave words to. I pleaded only that the Lord remove the pain I felt in my heart and that grief would go away, if only for a little while. Eventually, I could finally raise my face from my hands and through tear swollen eyes, I first noticed her. Her name was Ruby Rachell and as I looked closer I saw that she had been a loving mother and wife. As I read on, she told me that she had been born in June, 1929 and stayed here until 1993, Aug. 6. My knees still rest...Expand for more